


Act 2: Errors in memory

by LazyShadow



Series: Fragmented Echoes. Chapter 1: Undeground hell [2]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: Horror, Humans, Madness, Octo Expansion DLC, Tratiors Hall, Twisted story, openff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-08-17 13:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16517450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyShadow/pseuds/LazyShadow
Summary: Humanity has fallen. The only survivors continued to exist deep underground for two decades... working in terrifying conditions, dying from a single mistake....But one day something went wrong... terribly wrong. Everyone is gone...place is abandoned...and why the hell do I have tentacles on my head?!





	1. Part 0: Central Hub

We are currently on the way to the Central Hub. Someone called me in there. I thought this is not related to me, but I'm prohibited from even trying to enter the test chamber! Sigh. So me and Agent asshole are spending time talking, there is nothing else to do anyway.

" _...Any idea who that was?"_ I said it, while looking at the lamps flying in the window, one after the other.

" _Like you said, it can't be human. Well...certainly no any sane person would call himself Yu...something with U, I forgot"_ Without his stupid jokes, attempts to seduce me and overall insanity(unless he's just pretending to be a madman) Agent asshole is quite a smart person and currently sharing some thoughts about the situation.

_" It called itself U.A.C.U."_

_"Ah, exactly. An abbreviation. It should mean Universal Artificial Comand Unit..."_

I interrupted him, picking up the idea _"...a.k.a Commander Tartar, which is hardly believable. He's just a prototype in Sector B!"_

_"Same goes for the other things that were hardly believable this morning.."_

" _What are you getting at?"_

_"Isn't it obvious? Things have changed, there is no denying to that,"_ He took a brief look at CQ Cumber who is currently climbing the pole and continued _"Who knows, maybe the poor bastard finished his magnum opus and now it has full control of the facility"_

I sighed, kneading my neck _"Fair point....I just hope this is not some kind of Portal wannabe simulation or endless nightmare. It feels so real. And it..."_

_"Scares you? Trust me, I know that feeling of uncertainty. When you struggle to distinguish reality from fantasy. But..."_ he leaned toward me and went into a whisper _"just in case if your stupid theory is true. I would prefer breathing neurotoxin candles for science rather than to be some kind of character in a fanfiction book/comic where you have to fuck with two humanoid looking squids"H_ e sat back and continued talking normally _"...bbrgh, jeez._

The train started to slow down with announcing message from the Sea Slug: " _Now arriving at Central Hub. Make sure to have a happy and productive day after your rest."_ I silently node to him and stand up, preparing to leave the train. Agent asshole walk to me and continue to talk:

_"Welp. We are heaAr..."_

_"It's not heAr, it's here."_

_"Oh, now you turning your Grammar Nazi against me?"_ his chuckle turns into laugh.

_"Uh. What's so funny?"_ I turn my head and gave him a questionable look.

_"Nothing...It just the fact that you use_ _two bloody editors_ _to fix your trashfick and it_ _still_ _needs healing! This is so pathetic and hilarious, I don't even know whether I should be sad or laughing my ass off._

I look at him with mixed face expression and then shacked my head _"I honestly have no fucking idea, what kind of nonsense you talking about and how it's related to me, but I feel embarrassed already..."_

_"Of course you do, he-he. Eh, whatever. Let's see what kind of clown want to have a "private conversation" with you. And god I hope it's not some kind of fat one hundred and thirty years old grandpa with desire to show the "young generation, how to do shit" turned into a supercomputer..."_

The train stopped. Doors opened and we stepped out into the platform. Unlike the rest of the facility and the train station where we were picked up by that..."thing", the area was in perfect condition: no dust, rubbl _e_ or any signs of deterioration. Clean and shiny. We begin to slowly move away from train station, inside the Central Hub, looking for the one who send the message.There aren't many hubs in this facility and this one is the largest one, connecting several parts of sector A with escalations, lifts and other means of transportation.

Usually this Hub is pretty loud and occupied with people, but today it decided to cosplay Pripyat. I can only hear our quiet breath and steps. Nobody home yet cameras are active and silently record our movements, lights are working like they supposed to, escalations constantly moving, holographic posters are spinning advertisements interspersed with long overdue rules and propaganda; hell, even local plants and flowers are alive and well! I thought abandoned corridors, cafeteria filled with skeletons, my body and overall decaying atmosphere of post apocalyptic Kamabo Co 2084 (nice reference to Metro) with a wild mix of Portal and Bendy And The Ink Machine combined with talking Sea slug and insane human - fucked up and maybe...Just maybe not even real. But comparing it to this - I not so sure about that claim anymore... We had a fucking Срачacolypse on the surface, some inexplicable ebota is stalking the corridors, ohrenet what kind of fun stuff is happening here And this place aesthetically speak to my eyes: " _I don't give a fuck_!". Maybe it really is a simulation of some sort...Rrgh, no. Must focused on the goal.

We are walking for half of hour already. Still no signs of life or who ever wanted to see me here. Agent Asshole is still silent as grave. I can see the same confusion and unsecurity on his face. We just reached the center of..Center. There is a beautiful operating fountain, spilling real water just like in pre shit days. Holo screens in the corners. I walk up to the fountain and look into it to see my vague reflection in the water.

" _Oh, ebane v rot"_ involuntarily burst out of my mouth. I...I changed! My face is much younger, the ears, blue eyes with some kind of makeup around them. Pink tentantacle hair...it really is alive, warm and twitching. " _God mother fucking damn those gene engineers biologist anime fuck fans and their experiments! What the fuck did they turned me into?!"_

Unexpected reply came out of speakers with something between a synthetic simulation and actual human voice: _"You been turned into Homo glutino atramenti or as test subjects commonly refer to themselves - octoling. I like to consider it as software upgrade in biological level"_

I raised my head, looking around, screaming " _Who?! Who the fuck are you?! Where are you?! Show your..."_ I noticed the holo screens switching their usual images into an old telephone from nineteenth century. No.. My lips started to twitch as I realize, who it was and lowered the tone to a whisper: " _...you gotta be fucking kidding me."_

_"My designation is Universal Artificial Comand Unit. Also known as."_ I switched to a normal tone and spelled those two words synchronously with him: " _Commander Tartar_ _"_ That crazy son of a bitch was right. But it makes no sense! He is not even finished! Or is he...

Agent asshole looked at me slightly surprised: " _You two know each other? Is he your digital slut or something?"_

_"And here I started to think that your stupid sex jokes are finally over, but nooo! You just HAVE live up to your name and ruin such an important moment!"_ I roared at him _"I'll deal with you later!"_ I switched my attention to one of the holo screens" I..." And here I get that shameful feel when you got yourself in conversation and you've got questions, but you have no idea what to ask. aaah, think - think - think!

Tartar didn't wait and begin speech: " _Test subject 10 008 v3. I know you have a lot of good questions to ask, that you may be confused and unaware of what's going on in current time. This is the main reason of your summoning into this location. It's optimal for long term conversations like this one."_

_"Oh god fucking finally I'll be able to understand what the actual fuck is going on in this hell!"_ I looked at one of the monitors in excitement and pointed at my mirror image in the fountain _"What the fuck did you do to me?! What is this shit on my head!"_

_"This "shit on your head", as you refer it is your tentacles. Yes, they are very real and can be very helpful. May I ask: have you tried to use them as additional limbs or has your nerve system have yet to adapt to that?"_

I stood there, confused and thinking. But just before I came up with answer, Agent Asshole intervened in our conversation with another stupid pun: " _They are actually prehensile so you can use them to masturbate...even jerk off your own ass if you flexible or your sweet mini cthulhu is long enough_ " he looked at me seductively with his vicious chuckle from which I shuddered and take a step back.

" _Ну тебя нахуй! Grow your own tentacles and fuck yourself if you so desire! And let me talk with AI, damn it_!"

He fell silent and stepped aside with a smile, dripping in his CQ-80

I turned back to Tartar. Sigh " _Excuse me, insane people around. You said that this...my strange hair can be useful? How? I can't control them.."_

He went silent for a sec and answered: " _I'll take that response as no. Understood. Like I said, you can use them as additional limbs, due to their flexibility and tenacity. And yes...you can use them for masturbating or during the mating process. I would love to observe you trying pull that off. Irrelevant, back to the explanation. In case if you are hungry or want a haircut, you can cut them off and cook them like any ordinary fish meat_ " I shuddered again, taking a look at my reflection " _Do not feel disturbed by it. They'll regenerate within one - three days. And I made a research. This is not considered a cannibalism. Feel free to eat yourself. Potential pun are not intended"_

I took a few moments to digest it all in my head " _Oh...why both of you bastard are suggesting me a gay stuff? Is something wrong with me or I just going insane_?!" Asshole laughing behind my back...aaargh, asshole

_"Sexual orientation and preferences are_ [contemporary speech mode enabled] _FUCKING INCONSEQUENTIAL AND IRRELAENT!_ [contemporary speech mode disabled]. _I only present the facts and detailed information that might be helpful for you. Like you ink interaction abilities. I have seen you had some experience with submerging and already experienced, what they called, "splating"...."_ I open my mouth ready to ask him about that, but he continued _"And before you start screaming questions about ink and how you manage to survive, lassen Sie mich erklären, wie es funktioniert."_

_"I blinked and gave short "what?"_ to which he responded " _my apologies, I like to switch to other languages from time to time. "Stay fresh", as Inklings like to say. I said in german: "let me explain how it works"..._

An annoying voice interrupted the Machine _"Hey, agent 8 or whatever I called you! Check this shit out! There is a UV light option in CQ-80. What a universal miracle of technology running on static electricity."_

I turned back to Agent asshole, clenching fists with the desire to beat his stupid sex obsessed face, but I noticed something on the wall. " _Give it hea_ Ar!" I forcefully confiscated his CQ-80 and pointed the UV light on the suspicion wa...oh. Now this is unexpected surprise.

There was hidden graffiti on the wall, revealed with UV light. It portrayed some kind of anthropomorphic chicken in sunglasses, holding a blue coffee mug with a tray. The coffee had a shape of cat face in it and a little note that says: " _Sarah_ ". Chicken also held a strange book named "Авось не Сдохнем" with a Ace card attached to it. The message below this "art" says: " _Respect their effort."_

_"I wonder if there is an easter egg with the original Agent ASS. I do like the details in this art tho.."_ Agent Asshole said it to himself and walked away _"I'll be nearby!"_

Tartar patiently waiting till I switch my attention back to him and continued: _"Are you done wasting your time?"_

I nod in response _._ We getting off the topic.

_"Excellent! Now listen very carefully: You have been selected for participation in Project [redacted]. As part of the project requirements, you have gone through a series of gene enhancement sessions. Your memories are partially blocked for your own safety. That's why you struggle to remember the recent events and have been hallucinating new memories yo fill the gap. You may not want to hear it, but you were fooled into the fate of a lab rat, which is now your best and only option for a better life. But for that you need to complete the test chambers and collectfour key items to reach the Promised Land. Until then I'm not authorised to reveal names, the goal of the project, or answer any and all questions directly related to it. I'll give you a minute to process that information."_

So...I get what I came for. Answers. Well, some of them anyway. But instead of clearing the picture they fucking terrifying me, confusing me even more! Have I been experimented on? Turned into a "better man"? LAB RAT?! And unfinished AI is now controlling whole god damn facility?! Bozhe moi, I think I'm losing my mind in this madness...

_"Allow me to occupy your mind with more useful thoughts. One philosopher once said: For some people life is just a game, where 50% of the population are expandable pawns; 40 % are available resources that can be sacrificed to achieve the goal. And the last remaining 10% must see it through to the end and achieve victory, no matter what cost. Their failure is a failure for everyone. It reminds me of chess. and_ [contemporary speech mode enabled] _FUCKING POLITICIANS WHO BLOW UP THE EARTH_ [contemporary speech mode disabled]. _My opinion about the nuclear war in 2064 that erased humanity is still highly negative. I don't see the reasons or the logic in their actions. But it's irrelevant now. I'll provide you with a 24 hour period to rest, explore the area and visit the Training room. After that, you'll continue testing and I will continue observing you from a first person perspective. Now rest. End of communication"_

The Holo screens blacked out for a second and returned to their usual mode. I turned around and sat on the floor, leaning my back against the fountain and putting my hand to my forehead, sighing heavily. I never expected that turn of events. Just gonna think for a while, then find that asshole and explore the place. Damn, I could have asked so many questions...yet somehow I wasted time on my living stupid hair. I need a drink...

_............................................................................................................_

*A little while before that. Somewhere in Sector A. POV: Unknown*

Slash-slash-slash _._ Blood is pumping out of the cut veins and runs down the arm to the floor. One can feel nothing; taste nothing _..._ I push the knife deeper into the wound, twisting the blade inside with the crisp sound of broken tendons, torn flesh and bubbling blood. The hand is barely attached to my body, he-he, bleeding, twitching. I made one more cut and it's fallen on the floor. He-he-he.... Giggling without pleasure, looking at that mess. " _Undead hands are falling down_

_Falling down._

_Falling down...Sanity is falling down_ " Pause with sigh _"I can't take it..."_

I spit with my bloody ink on it and turned to my brother. He's writing a message for the next victim..

_"Brother"_ He switched his attention to me _"Should we make soup out of my fingers or cut off my hand and make some sausages? I'll probably do both. The hand will regrow in a minute anyway"._ He continue to write with moaning, but suddenly they are interrupted by a noise. Announcement alert kicks in. I cover my eyes for a moment and wheeze _"It's HIM..."_

_U.A.C.U. speaking_. _Test subject #10_0008_V3. You are suspended from completing Test Chamber 2 of lane A and taking any further attempt to complete other tests until you report to the Central Hub for a private conversation. Science is waiting. And for any "members" of this of this so called Traitors Hall whom are listening right now..._ [contemporary speech mode enabled] _GO FUCK YOURSELF, YOU USELESS IMMORTAL MEATBUGS OF INK_ [contemporary speech mode disabled] _That is all._

I went silent, thinking for some time, before brother behind me finally said _" Brother? You hear it, clearly. The machine said your..."_

_"I know what HE said."_ I stand up with slow, deep sigh and look at my new, regrow arm, clenching fist and turning to him _"And I know what must be done. Go. Tell the brothers and sisters to stand down. Richard Streletskiy is mine..."_


	2. Part 1: Hunted by failures

**Creating report: 10K8V3….**

 

_ 52 hours have passed since establishing contact with test subject 10008v3.  His physical health is rather to the acceptable parameters; however, this subject often has trouble sleeping. A full memory recovery may take a longer time period that my original calculations predict - we shall have to correct our equations. His mental health is... unstable, to say the least. This test subject is delusional -  the most likely cause for his exceptionally low test-solving speed. There is a high probability of this disorder getting worse with each new test. The recent activity from the Traitors Hall is also adding to this… rather problematic situation. If they compromise his sanity by revealing classified information - complete sanitisation will be necessary _ .  _ Observational data in the remaining test chambers on Line A is corrupted and deleted. Further observations will have to be edited in order to preserve server space and - as my creator once said - “not making me boil in boredom watching him doing the same thing for hours straight”. _

**End of report**

**Test subject is currently attempting to complete test chamber 1 of Line B.**

**_File 10K8V3_C1A2P1 is deleted. Reason - editing._ **

**_Creating new file: 10K8V3_C1A2P1_ **

**_File is ready for recording._ **

**_Observation begins._ **

  
  


With a heavy sigh, I appear from the checkpoint bath.

 

“This test’ll be easy,” he said. “You’ll get through in no time,” he said. Of course, as Sea Slug explained, it’s incredibly easy. NOT. The objective? Reach the end of this test track with three snipers actively trying to kill ya, while standing on a tiny moving platform with absolutely no cover. Did I mention the spinning cylinders I have to be constantly shooting in order to keep away these giant sticks that instantly kill me when I touch them?! DOES THIS SOUND EASY NOW?! NGH...

 

I pull my “charger” out of the ink. Unlike that “splattershot”, this toy has actual range and power. But I have to pull the trigger and keep it down to build up pressure before I fire. In other words, it’s essentially a sniper rifle without a scope. Gonna quickly check my stats with my CQ-80… Ah, fishsticks, I only have two “lives” left and with my current amount of points… I don’t wanna come back and repeat previous tests just to get enough “money” for another chance here! And I need these stupid points to buy food, drinks, fuck, even access to Central Hub costs me points! And nobody told me that - I had to learn the hard way! I know that Tartar said that this would “stimulate a test subject to complete tests and feel rewarded in its success”, but…. Rrgh… That machine has no pity for us lab octopi at all. And what was with that “sanitisation” he warned me about? I didn’t even get my answers! Classified information, bla-bla-bla… Argh, Rick, stop talking with yourself and get to work! 

 

I shake my head and dive into the ink trail I left earlier. Now, slowly swim forward and look around. I can clearly hear the sound of metallic tapping above me. Oh crap - one of them is on the ceiling?! Well, that explains how they killed me last time. Hm. I think I have an idea... I resurface, bringing the barrel of the gun with me, as quietly and slowly as humanly possible, and begin charging up a shot. He doesn’t see me yet. Good. Now - just like in the games- steady. Aim. Exhale and… Shoot it in the face! While that thing is stunned, I hop out from the ink and charge up another shot… boom! Headshot! That cyka falls to the floor. I rush to him, preparing for the finishing shot, but he’s already trying to aim at me - jump back into the ink! Swim to him, faster - faster! Jump out, charge your shot aaand BOOM! Fucking finally! “ _ You. Are. Dead! Not a big surprise, you handless spider man wanna be! Ha!” _ Seeing as it’s down, I take a moment to get a closer look at it.

 

Well, it’s neither dead nor alive. Some kind of… blue-skinned mutant. Tartar called them “sanitized units” - weird but whatever. It doesn’t have hands. No feet. They’ve been replaced with claw-like metallic implants with enough flexibility to climb up walls. One eye is replaced with another weird implant  - must be the source of that laser pointer that helps me spot them. Maybe it also functions like a scope? Who knows. A dildo-looking barrel or implant is attached to the mouth. Well, it’s not exactly dildo - it’s just a black 10 centimeters long black barrel with some kind of balls at the base. I bet they're used to build up pressure like my current weapon, but without the need to hold it with both hands. Smart design, but also gross and f-fucking disgusting. I don’t like it. 

I poke its face with a barrel to get a better view of the other side of his face - mhm, I see it and I don’t like  _ this _ either. That “thing” it uses as a weapon is welded  _ directly to the skin _ . I doubt removing that contraption is possible without some serious face injuries. Now that I think about it, this shit might be connected to its inner throat or even its organs. Ew. But that means there’s got to be something in the body that produces and stores ink! The same logic applies to me. But who cares?! One down, half of the universe to go.

 

I jump back into my ink and begin to proceed - aaahh, there’s something behind me! I immediately turn around just in time to witness that spider motherfucker coming back to life?! And it got away! Ugh… I keep forgetting about that. Still, you can’t just come back to life and scare people like this! Sigh. Forget it. 

 

I swim near the edge of the area, waiting for the platform to show up and looking around while waiting. Two sniper - spider things are slowly and twitchily moving around their patrol area, looking for me with their laser vision, using their high ground to their advantage. And here’s the platform of doom, inked with oil-like green shit. I quickly pop up from my ink and shoot the platform with my own color, before stepping on - Shit! The fuckers have found me. With muffled angry sounds they take quick long leaps to get my in their range.  _ “I don’t-”  _ gotta dodge the shot, try to snipe one of them back “- _ fucking appreciate your disrespectful behavior! Whoa!”  _ Hit the target, submerge in ink, reemerge with just my head and han-uhhh- tentacle. “  _ I’ll tell your moms about all this shit you're doing, you hear me!?”  _ Pop back to avoid the next shot.

 

Aim, shoot, get in the ink, emerge, shoot, repeat. Taking down one of those mutant/sanitised assholes made my job a whole lot easier, but I’m still struggling in this dancing-platform hell with just one! “ _ Aaargh _ !  _ Fuck off _ !” I take a shot to my left arm, and the bastard jumps away from my shot in return. It burns, but submerging back in my pink stuff heals me back up in no time. Wonders of uhh… octo-biology? Whatever. Another target is close and it’s gonna fire. “ _ Woomy the fuck outta here! I’m working!”  _ Aim, charge and shoo- “ _ FuuuuUUUU! That was my favorite right hand, you brainde- AAargh! Fucking hell, don’t shoot my shoulder, you coop.. _ !” I’m immobilised in pain all too late - the damn platform is headed right a fucking big-ass car-washing brush - of course, filled with deadly turquoise ink. And I’ve got no time whatsoever to charge up a shot, let alone hit that target. Sigh. “ _ Curse you,  you mother fu… _ ”  The brush slams into my face. And I’m dead.

 

Five seconds later, I appear from the checkpoint bath, screaming. “- _ kers! GhraaaAAAH! _ ”  I look at my twitching hands, clenching them and roaring in anger - or is it fear? One last respawn. I'm still nowhere close to the end of this test and that fuckface has respawned to hunt me down again, he-he… he… I’m fucked. One more mistake and I’ll have to redo a bunch of mind-fucking tests. O-ho-ho-ho, why does this shit always happen? I want my old job now. Sigh. I take my weapon, exit my little safe zone and jump into the ink. (Un)fortunately, the CQ-80 works in my ink, and Agent Asshole is calling to annoy me even more. Wonderful.

 

_ “Ok, Eight. Hold your zerg rush for a sec. I got an idea.” _

 

I roll my eyes, muttering angrily. “ _ What a terrifying thought _ !”

“ _ Just think below the box and be done with it, will ya?”  _ I pause for a moment.

_ “Uhhh…okay. Thinking mode on. How the fuck are these boxies related to this....Oh. OH! I think I got it! _ ” I cackle softly and rub my hands.“ _ That damn platform is a box and… _ ”

“... _ those fuckfaces never go below the boxie’s level. Aye, you’re headed in right direction! The same goes for that car-washing-wannabe stuff. So if you manage to hold onto the bottom side of the box while in your ink… this should be easy. Now do your job and get back here - I’m gonna feed ya with jokes, he.” _

 

Well, yeah - this sounds absolutely nutty, but that's the point - crazy ideas usually work. And he's right - I simply rush through the most obvious route instead of stopping and thinking logically… it’s honestly not surprising. Every single event in the last couple days has been a shit ton of mind-fuckery. I'm just trying to rush forward, escape this madhouse and get to this “Promise Land”, hopefully obtaining a couple of answers along the way. But instead, I’m simply drowning in questions, while struggling with these damn tests and listening to these godforsaken stupid jokes - or worse - sex suggestions from you-know-who. Sigh.

 

I swim to the edge of the little platform and carefully swim down, holding the edge with my hands. It kinda looks strange: a small pile of ink on the wall with two hands rising from it, holding the edge. Huh, the blue bastards don’t respond to this… good. Ok, the platform has arrived. Here goes nothing. I toss the charger behind me - I’m not gonna need it, either way. Either I succeed, or I’m forced to go back to those shitty tests. I quickly jump forward and grab the platform, slinging my legs to the other side to stay up. Phew, that was risky. It’s moving and I’m below it. God, please work, I don’t wanna fall to my death… 

 

The platform is slowly moving forward. My “noble steed” and I pass one line of washing brushes after another. I can hear those damn snipers jumping around without noticing me. If anyone ever told me that a simple moving platform is scarier than any extreme attraction I've ever been to, I would laugh until I suffocated. But now… now I can only hold on and try not to shit myself. But to my surprise and relief, I manage to reach the end. 

 

The speakers play a pre-recorded message from the announcement system. “ _ All goals achieved. Test passed.”  _ Phew. I can finally breathe a sigh of relief, although I still gotta hang on. The platform stopped, a gate closed behind me, shutting off the damn snipers- thank god for that. I begin to slowly - and very carefully - climb on the main platform, which contains a checkpoint and the exit doorway. I can’t see what’s inside there, though I can hear it ever so faintly. CQ Cumber was talking about some kind of second test in this test chamber, but I couldn’t quite catch it. There’s only one way out anyway. Let’s go and finish this.

 

I proceed forward through the passage to the doorway. My head is getting heavy… I feel a bit weak. Probably from a lack of sleep or from that rush of fear I got from that little platform. Yeah, probably that. My hands are starting to hurt, too. I don’t know why, but I… I can’t get enough sleep lately. The moment I close my eyes, I hear the echoing voices of people I’ve never met, or I see images of places I never been. Ugh, I feel like I’m not myself anymore - not at all. I need to finish this test and take a break as soon as possible. Here’s the dark doorway and the corridor behind it. A long corridor, too. Sigh. No ground escalators or whatever they’re called. Something's not right… 

 

The corridor is getting longer the further I go in. The floor is rotting - it cracks under my feet with every step I take. My vision begins to blur, my head growing heavier. The windows are no more, replaced by nothing but televisions showing only static. I lose my balance and slam into the wall, ending up having to use it as support.  _ I have to move on… I have to keep on. In the end, someone will have to do the hard work.   _ What?! I’m not saying this! Must be a memory, echoing through this strange corridor. This can’t be real. I’m hallucinating, maybe because I’m near death. Who cares? We all die at some point. And with my current amount of questions, tests and ink… it won't make a difference anyway.

 

The wall of televisions stretch on, showing my questions, written in red ink… or blood. The speakers read them out with an echo of my voice. They keep talking. Again and again. Louder and louder. It’s driving me insane.

 

_ “… wha͡t͝ a͜re̛ t҉hose̴ ̕t̴ȩn͏t̡ac͏le̴s͠ e̴v͝en d̸oi͝n̷g ͟on̕ MY he͏ad͘?̧!̛” _

_ ͏   ”Whaţ’̧s̶ ͞g̨o͜i͏n҉g ͠on ͟h͟ere̸? ̸Wh̡er͘e̷ ̨is̡ ev̵e̡r͠yone?͢!” _

_        “̨H͝ow… ĥ̃ơ̧̇w t̵he͞ fu̡c̛k̵ d̢o ̨you͘ ķnǫw̛ ̡my̛ ̶n͠ąm̸e?” _

_                “He͜ v͝an̷ished! Ho҉w͢?!” _

_                        “Wh̶o ͞t̛h͜e͢ f͢uc͏k͜ ar̵e ͘yo͝u͠?!̸ ҉Whe̕re ͝ąrę ̡y͏ou?!̧” _

_                            “HOW did we manage to let a SINGLE teenage girl c̛͠ap͝͏tu҉r͢e͏̢ our K̨̧i̷̡͞n̡̕͠g̨̢͟ AND ̛͟͝r̨̢̨҉̵u̶͝͠i̸̢̢͘͠n̨͡͏ ̡̕͜ǫ҉̵ų̷r̴̶ ̵̢e̴̸n̢͜͢t̨͟i̸͜͜͢͡r̴̡͏e̡͡͞ ̸̡͜͞o̢͜͝p̴͘ȩ̴͢r͢͠a̵̴͘̕t̶̴̢̧i̷̢͜ơ͟n͝?̸̢͡!̴̡͟͏” _

_                                  “What the fuck did they turn me into?!” _

_   
_ __ __ _ Why?  _ _ Why _ _?  _ _ Why _ _?  _ _ Why _ _?  _ _ WHY? _ _! _

  
  


Suddenly, it all went quiet as a doorway appears not too far away, beams of light peeking through the cracks. I have no choice but to go on. Through the pain, I approached the light and extend my hand, touching it with wary fingertips. It produced some kind of… ringing. Slowly, the ringing grew louder and louder, deafening me, intoxicating me, knocking me unconscious… 

 

I open my eyes.  _ “What the heck?!”  _ Here I am in the middle of a classroom, sitting at a desk among many more. Huh, I don’t remember this place. I look around and instantly notice that everyone else isn’t completely human - they all have tentacle hair and weird skin. At the board there is someone - or something - resembling a person. It’s wearing a school uniform. But it’s not human… no, it’s got tentacles for all its limbs! I remember now. He can’t be a human yet. He’s not old enough to transform into one. It’s confusing and my head hurts, but everyone is acting like this is normal, so I stay quiet and listen as someone speaks to that little kid.  _ “ _ _ Now can you tell us about interacting with ink and splatting?” _

 

The boy blinked a couple of times and began to answer, sketching it out on the board as he spoke.

_ “Our ancient sea ancestors used ink only as self-defense mechanism. Through thousands of years of evolution, ink took a more active role in our lives. We learned to use it as a way to attack our prey, heal our wounds and regenerate lost limbs. Most importantly, we need it to transform into our ‘human’ form..” _

 

One of the guys near me interrupts him. “ _ Closer to the point, please. We don't have all day to listen about biology.”  _

 

He nodded nervously and continued: “ _Y-yes-yes, of course!_ _When “alien” ink is contacting our skin, the body responds with an allergic reaction as it tries to absorb it and "transfer it to its own side". Washing that ink off or submerging in ink of your current color will take care of that. But when the body is in contact with a large amount of “alien” ink, it gets overwhelmed, which leads it to assume the second line of our biological defense - being splatted. The body explodes into that hostile ink, reducing itself to a primitive 5-inch flying form that instinctively seeks out a nearby pool of “suitable” ink and submerges into in order to regenerate.”_

 

The presentation is really interesting, informative even. But I’m still confused. Evolution? Sea ancestors? Human form? Whaaaa? I-I don’t understand at all! I need an explanation. I want to stop the kid and ask him some questions, but suddenly they all turn to me with a questionable look on their faces.  _ “Guys, why are you look ingat me like that?”  _ Hopefully they wouldn’t pick up on my nervousness.

 

One of them answers. “ _Isn’t this obvious, you incompetent fishstick?_ _You are a failure._ ” He points at the kid, who just happily waves at me with his jelly-like hand, showing the drawing behind him. A drawing of… war?! “ _You are a failure, a shameful splatter of ink in our kind and military_. _You failed to kill Her. You let the Green Terror live! Coward! Traitor! Sanitise this failure!”_

 

The walls start to crumble, a blinding light slowly peeking through the cracks. I jump out of my seat in shock, looking around, not knowing what to do. Every single one of them began to repeat the same echoing phrase as the place collapses.

 

“ _ A failure! A f͢a͢ilure! A f̴̕a̵̕i̛҉lur͡͡e̕͡! A f̧̛͞a̧̛͠i̡̛͞͠l̴̨̨͝u͏͏r҉̴̢ȩ̢̡̕!” _

………………………………………

 

I come to in the middle of some preparation room. How did I…? ” _ Rrgh.” _ No matter. My nose is bleeding, my head is killing me, and I feel like I just rose from my grave. And what’s this goddamn noise that keeps playing?! Music? Who the fuck is singing?  I turn around sharply, looking for a aggravator. Ah, my CQ-80 is lying on the floor on the radio setting, playing some kind of rap with static. But the sound is too low. I can’t understand it. I pick it up and turn up the volume. 

 

_ Jus͟t f͏͘ŗ̕͝ee̛ ̕y̢̨͜ou̵r̢̛s҉̸e̶̡l͏f̡͘ from á̱̇ll̈ fe͜el̨i͞ng͘s̷ _

_ Soon you’ll see in black and white _ __   
  


_ Call us insane and evil _

_ But we were made from frozen minds _

 

_ Leaking from the body _

_ Ink is bleeding through the mind _

 

_ Is that your heart that’s beating? _

_ Are you really alive? _

 

_ Collect what’s necessary _

_ Keep appeasing the machine _

 

_ It’s us you should be believing _

_Cus HE’s desiving you with lies_

I turn this shit off - never liked rap - wiped the blood off my nose and… would you look at that. The charger  rifle is lying here with, uh - small stains of that weird green ink those mutants use. But that’s not the end of this mad situation. There is a message on the floor right next to the weapon. It’s written - rather crookedly - in fresh green ink..  “Here’s your toy, but don’t lose it again. I ain’t no gun retrieving service, kiddo.” I pick it up, confused. “ _ Tartar, what’s the meaning of this _ ?”

To my surprise, the speakers on the wall responded, first with static, then U.A.C.U answered: “ _ Warning. Complete the test and get to the train ASAP. Deploying sanitised units to defend the train station. They should not  _ [contemporary speech mode enabled]  _ FUCK YOUR BRAIN UP AND THEN RAPE YOUR BIOLOGICAL FORM LIKE A WHORE _ [contemporary speech mode disabled].  _ I don’t appreciate that behavior towards my test subjects.” _

 

Ehhh…. Raping me? No thanks. I don’t like the sound of that. Remind me to stay the fuck away from those things. “ _What’s going on?_ _Who are you talking about?”_

_ “The Traitors Hall. That inconsequential cult of failures, sabotaging my work… This conversation will continue when you reach the train. Focus on your task at hand.”  _ The speakers went silent. Traitors Hall… hm. Is it some kinda cult of failures? But who is - ah, fishsticks. That marked door with the hall of undead bodies back in the beginning of this confusing shitstorm and - and those two mutant bastards killing each other in office area… they’re probably some of those “traitors”. Why is this shithole of questions and problems getting deeper every day? Something tells me that this is gonna be a real big, itchy pain in the ass to deal with. Mark my words! But for now, I’ll just follow Tartar’s advice and complete these stupid tests.

 

I proceed forward through the checkpoint doors into the test area. There was no connecting corridor, to my relief - I was inside the test sphere already. It leads me to a small extended platform with a checkpoint right at the end of it.  I climb into the checkpoint and sit down. At least my legs are no longer submerging in ink on their own. I move my attention to the contraption ahead and started to analyze it.

 

There’s a gigantic wall of boxes standing still in the air with three small cubes moving in front of them. They all had a white balloon in a form of a pufferfish. I saw those in the training room. Shoot them once and they go all “RAGE QUIT BEFORE I LOSE” and blow up. They appear to be located the same distance between each other in a perfect vertical order, just like the boxes. The top one and the bottom one are moving in a synchronized motion, while the middle one is going in the opposite direction, all going from left to right and right to left. Verdict: Someone had a bit too much fun with anti-gravity tech. I take the CQ-80 in my hand and use the communicator to call CQ Cumber:

 

“ _ CQ… sea slug thing. Uh, look… I’m in this second test in this test chamber and there is a god damn wall of boxes blocking the way. Some assistance for this idiot I call myself, please?” _

 

_ “CQ Cumber. My name is CQ Cumber. When will you start calling me by my name?” _ He took a little pause. “ _...There’s no one there. Alright. Test subject, your job here is to destroy all the crates with a single shot. Failure will result in your...” _

 

_ “Hold your fucking seahorses. Is this some kind of fucked up Mexican-style parody where I’m breaking the Great American Wall and I have only shoot at this, cus otherwise the yankees will catch and deport me?! That’s racist! Who designed this disrespectful test?! Oh wait. It’s Tartar, isn’t it? _

 

_ “Test subject, what kind nonsense are you talking about? The test chambers have nothing to do with - hold on a second.”  _ A strange sound emitted from my device “ _ Hey! This area is… h-” _ and transmission stopped. I don’t wanna super jump to a conclusion, but it sounds like this so called “Traitors Hall” is dealing with CQ Cumber at the moment. Well, Tartar said that he’ll use his...Wait! Oh, fucking hell. He’s the one who’s controlling those sanitised mutants?! God Damn it! How did I not figure it out before this?! Gggr! No fucking matter. I have a test to finish.

 

Allright, Rick.  No panicking, no rushing now. FOCUS! They’re only trying to distract you, you gotta think about getting this shit done. You have to think. Think-think-think. E-eh….One shot to destroy all boxies - ugh, boxes! Okay. What are my options here? I have to shoot the balloon. It will destroy the boxes and trigger the other balloons to finish the job. With inner moaning, I do some quick calculations. Hm, nope. I have to shoot the right balloon - only one will do the trick. It’s so damn simple, yet it’s complicated as fuck plus I have a stress factor outside-eeh?  _ “God fucking damn it, tentacle! Stop hanging in front of my eyes!” W _ ith an angry mumbling, I forcefully shove the tentacle aside. _ “Пшла нах away from my face!” _

 

Now, where were I? Ah, yes. Shooting the middle balloon is an obvious no-no - it’s the most obvious target, of course! The top one sounds like a good idea. But it’s still won’t work. They all must be destroyed with the domino effect. Plus let’s not forget about the invisible bitch, “g” equal 9.8 - gravity! These boxes will fall one on another, like in Tetris. My conclusion? That bottom balloon is my target. 

 

I stand up and taking aim, charging up a shot. Just gotta pick the perfect moment when all three balloons are lined up. Slow exhale. Focus. It reminds me of a quote from my old history book. “ _ Wanna ignite the revolution? Start from below. _ ” Bang! My ink projectile hits the bottom ballon. It expands and explodes in the distance. Here goes nothing! One third of the boxies - boxes - is destroyed by the inksplosion, others starting to fall lower. The middle balloon is already triggered and explodes like a true psychopath, taking a good chunk of boxes with itself to ink hell. The last balloon is rage-quitting soon, and it delivers the finishing blow, taking out the remaining boxes.

Am. Done! Done - done - done! I’m done here! Done like a boss!  The automatic pre-recorded message announces that the test is passed and I’m free to leave. “ _ Kyaaa ha-ha-ha! I fucking did it on the first try! Ha-ha! _ ” In euphoria, I accidentally drop my gun… right into the void of the test sphere. “ _ Ha. Ha...eh…f-fuck. Eh, gun returning service? Help me? Hello? No? Eh, fuck it. _ ” I should come back and act like a little happy child later.

 

I finally going back to the train. Got a good amount of points. Now I can progress and buy some snacks, too! But now I remember about those weird warnings and the sudden CQ Cumber disconnection. Oh, shit, I better call Agent Assho-what the… I can’t talk to him him? No, it’s worse! The connection is dead. I can’t contact anyone! Even my radio is silent.... A jammer. Somebody is using a jammer. But who? The freaks in the Traitors Hall? Why? What’s the deal with those fuckfaces? Wait, I hear something. Shh, listen, Rick, listen! It’s a distant sound. Someone is speaking… I don’t recognize them. Something fishy is going on out there. And I managed to lose my gun back there. I slowly and quietly make my way to the train station and look aro-oh, shit, HIDE!

 

A sick looking sanitized mutant - or whatever Tartar called them - is holding CQ Cumber, tickling him and slowly squeezing like a sponge. Around him is - no, the whole train station is filled with broken mutant bodies, many mutilated, some even _ripped_ _in_ _half_ , still bleeding and twitching in agony - eh, if they feel any pain at all. One of them even has - oh ebat - a severed leg shoved down his throat. Jeez, that’s fucking brutal… 

 

_ “U.A.C.U, send he-E-elp!”  _ Sea slug squeals like a little duck, trying to break free.

 

“ _ CQ-CQ…. Always here to mark their failures again and again. Tell me, does it hurt when I do that?”  _ The mutant squeezes him tighter, and with a sudden movement I can’t make out, CQ slams into the wall, cracking it a little. God, that’s bru...holy Zapfish, the poor bastard is still alive!

 

He’s crawling in its hand, definitely from the contusions and of... whatever he has inside him. _ “You are supposed to be under HIS command, traitor.”  _ I don't think he’ll survive another meeting with the Great American Wall… jeez, why am I making puns in this scenario?!

 

_ “We both know I’m a failure. HIS failure, a failure that suffers just like anyone else, who hasn’t lost their mind in this endless loop of blood and ink. And you are just another lab rat in his endless quest for perfection.” _

CQ chokes out his last words, waving his spidery jelly-like hands. _“I’m just doing my job. And did you do yours?”_ I close my eyes and turn away, horrified… and then I’m looking at this mess yet again as a ripping noise tears through the station. I can’t even look away from the dripping, glowing, lifeless little body of an innocent blue sea slug… I hope he was innocent.

 

_ “What did I do? Drumroll. I killed you again…”  _ This killer. This...monster casually tossed the body away, looking at his bloody hand with some kind of sick satisfaction.  _ “...but we both know you’ll be back. Just like us. Just like…”  _ He stops for a moment, turning to… me!? Oh blya- _ “...just like you, Richard.” _ With a dazed look, I quickly take a step back, frantically looking for an exit.

 

_ “Relax, Asshole. I’m not here to kill you...yet. Come over so we can talk.” _ He’s looking at me with that half-dead “I don’t give a fuck” look. Rrrr, just keep your shit together and answer like a badass, Rick! Come on!  _ COME ON! _

_ “Yeah, sure! Listen to the- the bad guy!”  _ Hopefully they didn’t notice that stumble. _ “I saw what you did to that poor innocent bastard!”  _ I point at the dead body of CQ Cumber. _ “And you honestly think I would believe that you don't have any murderous intentions?! You think I’m stupid or something?!”  _ Well, they wouldn’t be wrong - I am stupid, terrified, and ready to punch whatever this thing is in the face.

 

_ H _ e tilted his head slightly rolled his eyes. “ _ I can’t believe I bothered wasting my breath with a fishface like you.”  _

 

Fear and inner panic slowly turns to curiosity. “ _ Just what the fuck are you? Why do you want to kill me? And..what’s wr-wrong with you hentai hair?” _ I look with an open mouth at his green-ish growing tentacles behind his head. Compared to mine, they’re bigger, probably stronger… and a million times more terrifying.

_“Allow me to introduce you to…”_ He points at his tentacles. “ _Rip and Tear_.” He points at me. I immediately attempt to dodge, but that huge green dildo wannabe nailed me to the wall. I can hear cracking and my own muffled screams… this thing is trying to strangle me! I struggle against the grip and attempt to pull those damn tentacles off, but it’s no use. Panic takes hold of me. I can feel my body getting limper, weaker, my vision getting darker… I can just about hear the echoing voice of that monster, too. “ _I was planning to pull your guts out your ass, strangle you with them and then probably rape you before setting you on fire - but you aren’t ready.”_ This is it. I think I’m about to die. For real…

 

…Suddenly, the grip weakens. Pain explodes in my back and the crushing grip is gone… I’m free! I cough and frantically gasp for air, coming to on the floor. My body feels too heavy and I can’t feel my legs, but my strength is slowly returning to me. I look around for that monster out of panic, but he’s gone.

 

Something grabs my tentacles and starts dragging me in the direction of the train… or the direction of the tracks where they can toss me. I can hear the very same voice of that humanoid abomination, quietly singing:

 

_ Close your eyes and hear the birds singing _ __   
_ Sit for a while and imagine the flowers blossoming _ __   
_ Such a pleasant pace collapsing, leaving only growing flames _ __   
_ This is our fault, right? _ __   
__   
_ Wandering through empty corridors _ __   
_ Who would have thought we'd be stuck here once again _ __   
_ On an awful day like this I ask myself: _ __   
_ Did we really ask for this? _ __   
__   
_ I no longer know if there was a time _ __   
_ When we were ourselves and everything was easier: _ __   
_ Feelings and goals ... _ __   
_ Everyday life.... _ _   
_ __ Can’t things go back to like they were before?

 

_ E̢͜͠҉r̶͞r̸͞͡͠o͠҉ŗ _

_ ̵̵͟͞T̸̢̕͠͠o̢͜o̵ ̸̷҉m̵̶҉ă̈ _ _ ń̵y̆̆ _ _ ̶̶̢s҉̶̨͠p͢҉҉o̡͠͝į͏͟l͢҉̵e̸҉̸͘r̸͢s̵̛͢͡͠ _

_ ͝O̶͜͠͞r̷͏̷͝ ̴͢I̵͘͏'̸̡̛͜͡m̴̴͞ ̴̨͞ţ̵̡͠o͞͏̢ǒ̧́ ͞͝͠l̴̢a̴̢͜z͜͜͏y̷̧̛͟ ̵̡̢͏t̸̢o̡͜͠͡͡ ̷̷̨̨͠w͏͝ŗ͜͠i̸̛͢t̢̡̛͘ȩ̴̶̧ ̵̵͜͢m̵̴̵͘͝ǫr̴̸ȩ͜͝ ̢̛͜ļy̶̵̡r̛͜͞͞i̶̶c̸s̈̇ _

_ ͏̶͘͟W̵̛͡h҉̵̛͠o̡͜͢ ͜͏̴͠͠k̢̢̧͠ņ̴͘̕͞o̢̨w̡̡̕͏s̕͘̕ _

 

_ Can’t die.Can’t live. _

_ Where’s our hope now…? _

 

_ Close your eyes and hear the birds singing _ __   
_ Sit for a while and imagine the flowers blossoming _ _   
_ __ Such a pleasant pace collapsing, leaving only growing flames...

 

_ How can we have done this…? _

 


	3. Act 2: Errors in memory. Part 2: Dream Train

Everything feels cold.  I’m submerged in ink, but outside it, above it - there’s nothing, only darkness. I stretch my arms forward, grabbing onto something to pull myself out. Ah, perfect. I’m in the train. It’s moving. The lamps outside flash periodically in bursts, illuminating the dark cars every now and then - the ones inside are broken. Sparks in the wiring nearby indicate the presence of electricity, though. I slowly take a few steps forward, one by one, grabbing the handrails to prevent falling. I can hear voices. Two distant, echoing voices -  one male, one female.

 

“ _...let him live? Brother…” _

_ “Shut up, Sister, or I’ll shove up your head into your vagina. You know who we talking about.” _

_ “Yes, Rick. We’re talking about you. You. But why must he live? He’s just a hollow copy. Spare him from the suffering and tests.” _

_ “Before he finds out why we’re doing this? What HE did to us? Fuck it -  let the boy suffer just a bit more. I wanna give him a chance to do what I failed to…” _

 

_ “П̷̸̛р̨̕о̧͢͟͠е̕͢͠͞к̛͞т̢ ̧̢͠О̵̢͢б̧̛͡͠е̡͜͡҉щ̨̛͜а̵̕͞͡н̶̕н̷̶̸̴а̢̧͜͡я҉̧ ҉̴͘З͜е̶̢̧҉̡м̸̧̕͡л̵̶͜͡я̵” _

 

Sounds of struggling echo through my mind, causing me to fall on my knees. I can’t block them out… can’t block out the sounds of struggling, crushing metal and blood splattering on the floor.

_ “ You dare to remind me of that forbidden word? We all agreed to not talk about that… escape HE promised us.” _

_ “Still disappointed that we are just stress test dummies? Madness in our design. Created to fall as a foundation for others…”  _ Angry moaning harmonizes with a strange, sickening laugh.

_ “Just shove it up your ass already, or I’ll do it real gently after feeding both of you your own eyeballs.”  _ More sounds of struggling.

_ “Shut the fuck up already, you undead whore. Just finish sexually abusing the body and don't even think about eating his balls.” _

_ “Please, even cats can live without then…” _

_ “With that logic, even a sanitised chicken like you can perfectly suffer without a head. Why don’t we test my theory, huh?” _

 

A single snap and the voices go silent. Wheezing in pain, I get up and continue walking forward. Lit candles appear on the seats. Something invisible is writing a message on the floor - in the language I cannot understand. The lamps outside are gone… the train is swimming through a goddamn ocean now. There is no water inside or any problem with air at all, too. Huh. A small sign is hanging on the doorway ahead. “Logic and physics decided to stop giving a fuck any more. Ask your local reality manager today!” Uh… yeah, sure. If that position even exists, that is. Considering all the past nonsense, though, what gives?. If immortal tentacle people can exist, then why not “reality manager”s?!

 

I reach the end of the car. And it leads to the vast expanse of the ocean, to nothing. Just like my fucking life! I sit down at the edge, lost in thought. The ocean. Crystal clean and blue. Filled with life, singing in happiness and harmony; singing their Calamari Inkantation. It’s so beautiful. Here there’s no need to rush or fear that your “boss” will kill you. No need to hunt for the Green Terror. Just the freedom of the unknown. And behind me - candles and darkness, formed by metal and concrete. I spend my Half Life there, working day after day, watching people get executed… even killed a poor guy myself. He was sick - not anything incurable. We tried to explain, but the Professor threatened to kill us if we continued to defend  “that parasite". Sure, just killing “parasites” to ensure humanity’s survival. At that point we all knew it - the old bastard had gone insane. And we couldn’t do anything about it. He controlled everything! And now his beloved creation - Commander Tartar - is controlling this whole facility and those “sanitised units”. The humans are all gone - except Agent Asshole, who - at least in terms of strangeness and ebanutostyu - can and will give odds to any politician. All this sounds like a really bad Portal fanfiction… just let me wake up from this madness and get back to work. Please.

 

_ “Richa-a-ard…” _

 

Whaa? Who called me?! I turn around, looking.

 

_ “Richard. Richa-ard.”  _

 

A soft and angelic, yet synthesized voice echoes through the dark depths of this train, repeating my name, calling to me. I stand up, but I don’t want to go back there - there is nothing but empty promises and the salty taste of the grey life we once had. Something…. No. Someone is out there. It’s a woman. A bit taller than me, with soft white skin, pointy ears that stick out horizontally on her head, beautiful green eyes with natural black mask around them, lime tentacle-hair, two of them wrapped around the back of her head and bound, forming a ponytail. Her clothes reminding of something road workers wore… but even more, it reminds me of something dangerous. I open my mouth, wanting to ask a question, but I-I...I forgot what I’m supposed to ask. Her beauty melts my heart and blurs my brain - no wonder I forgot. She walks over to me with a faint smile on her lips and closes my mouth with her finger, slowly shaking her head. I hesitantly take her hand.

 

_ “Green Terror… Agent 3. What was the point of all this? Why? Why can’t we just..settle down and solve all those problems over a nice cup of tea? Revenge, energy crisis… ‘tis all old bullsquid. I know… I’m an enemy of your kind and all that propaganda shit. And I tried to kill ya just a minute ago - heh, guess we do live up to our reputation of the “bad guys”, don’t we...” _

 

She didn’t let me finish. She looked me in the eyes and spoke. The voice in her throat… it’s mine. _ “Rick. Wake the fuck up, you lazy shadow of a human being!” _

 

There’s a strange noise… like… ripping flesh. A flash of pain and… everything goes silent. No ocean, no train, no sparking wires. I shook as I looked at her cold face, choking in my own blood. She pull her hand off, holding my heart, before flipping me off and slowly walking away. The candles fade as she walks deeper and deeper into the darkness of the train. I look down. There is a huge, bleeding hole in my chest. Heh… guess I just gave a hand and my heart to the enemy.  I begin to lose my grip and fall off the train into the ocean. All I can do is say my last words… 

 

“ _ What a fucking disappointment. _ ”

 

I slowly open my eyes and try to raise my head. Ohhh, god, my insides are dancing in pain - probably to some loud dubstep. I think I might… welp, I just threw up like a drunkard. My own actions disgust me.

 

_ “Why is that every time I wake up, I feel like I’m dead? This…”  _ I vomit again and squeeze out “ _ This isn’t fair. Oh blyat, I can’t take another moment of it.” _

 

A familiar voice begins to mock me. “ _ Well, shit. You got fucking raped like a doll not by one, but TWO fucking green motherfuckers with style and no fucking respect for the audience! And you’re still alive! Achievement unlocked! Hah. I wish I could share share the details, but I don’t want to get my ass in this and...there are restrictions after all. By the way, have you ever considered trying to win the lottery? With that much luck you could be rich in no time!” _

 

I attempt to glare at him, but end up having to turn away to vomit. 

 

“ _ Or maybe you should send them a thank-you letter for cleaning up your stomach,”  _ he continued sarcastically - or is that sadism in his voice? Hard to tell with someone like him. A moment of silence while I threw up all over the floor again.

 

“ _ Just look at the amount of shit coming out your mouth!”  _ He shook his head and watched as I struggled to regain my composure and get a seat.  _ “Jokes aside, you need some absorbent carbon and painkillers.” _

 

 _“Then bring me some!”_ I whine.

_ “Yeah. Sure. Just let me unpack my medic bag and this’ll all be over. Oh wait. We have no fucking first aid kits here. At least, not since mister “Economy for dummies 666” decided that we don’t need them!”  _ He sits down across from me, sighing.  _ “Sorry, kiddo. Lazy writing and time skips won’t help here.” _

 

The train keeps moving. My head is dizzy. I feel like I’m gonna vomit my guts out and watch them tap dance over my dead body. Oh, it’s worse than the worst hangover I’ve ever had. Is this some kind of side effect of being raped by mutants or did they use me as a punching bag… or did they inject some kind of shit serum in me?

 

“  _ D - all of the above. And a little side note - it was a serum of protein injection, if you catch my drift.”  _ He winks at me with that wicked, wry, fucked-up smirk of his. I can’t take it any more.

 

“ _ Stop acting, like… like this is some kind of game for yo!. Or better yet - snap out of your damn sexual fantasies and be serious for once! We are in the middle of some serious shit! I was disfigured and turned into some kind of anime monster - seriously, just look at this!”  _ I grab my nearest tentacle and stretch it. “ _ This is not okay _ !  _ And if that wasn’t enough, a fucking AI sends me to perform useless tests and now I was nearly killed and raped! Probably multiple times! And despite all that shit, you always to laugh it off like a drunken clown… you always joke like nothing happened!”  _ I thumped my fist on the seat, roaring from pain and anger. 

 

He just shook his head.  _ “My kiddo. Did your mama never tell you that humor is the best medicine and a good way to not think about stress and ignore all pain? So, be grateful. I am, in fact, healing your ass with my puns and my amazing charisma!.”  _

 

I raised an eyebrow in contempt.

 

_ “Fine, I lied. My charisma is only level 2.7. And don’t give me that “what did you just say about Fortnite, you little shit” look. I get it. Too many puns for your fractured butthole to handle- wait, was it butthole or butt-whole?” _

 

“ _It’s_ _Fractured Butthole, you ASSessed walking mental asylum!”_

 

Now he’s getting really excited for some reason. Did I say something wrong just now?  _ “Oh. My. Fucking Buddha! Is this real?! You finally made your FIRST pun!? HA! Aye, that’s the way to do it! Gimme five!”  _

 

He gladly lifted his hand, fully “combat-ready”, but I just stare at him with an expression of “are you fucking nuts or are you fucking nuts?”

 

We both fall silent. He snapped his fingers - I think that means "no luck this time" - and leans back. I quietly continue to moan in pain and look at him in rage. Well, if life were some kind of fighting game with a rage meter, mine would be full by now. Just remembering all his jokes, all his mocking, all of it… oh, how I want to tear that smug smirk off his face and rip it to pieces! Whoa, me, calm down. 

 

A long pause later, he speaks up, his tone sober this time.

 

_ “Look, Rick….I think we need to hit the brakes for a sec. I mock you like you’re my bitch and you want to kill me for it. It’s pretty entertaining, but we’re going to have to put an end to that. I mean, we can keep going, but at this rate I’ll run out of original sex jokes and we’ll lose all character development - if there was any if a first place.”  _ He keeps looking around while saying this, almost as if he’s talking with a third person. 

 

“ _ Ain't that right? He-he-he, do͏n̡’͘t͠ ͝b̧ot͏h̷e̷r͏ w̕r҉i̡t͞i̕n̵g͢ an̆ ̑ ans̢we͝r.” _

 

I… I’ll just leave this maniac and his new imaginary buddies to themselves. F-f-fuck em. I’ll just close my eyes and try to get some fucking sleep. Maybe that will help a little...

 

Asshole interrupts my slow submersion into the dream world.  _ “Can I ask you one question? Answer honestly. Please.” _

 

I waved my hand without opening my eyes.  _ “ Fine. Валяй…все равно в этой консервной банке хрен поспишь..” _

 

He took a quick sigh.

 

_ “Rick….what do you think you are?”  _

 

My answer is nearly automatic. I know me better than anyone else…

 

_ “I’m a human, of course.”  _ __ __ __ _ “An Octoling, isn’t that obvious?” _

 

…Hold on. Did I just give two different answers at the same time? I open my eyes, confused and terrified.

 

“ _ Wait, how the… _ ”

 

He interrupts me.

 

_ “You do understand it’s impossible to be two species at the same time, no matter how similar and different the two of them are. So, Richard Strelecki-”  _ The lights in the train begin to go out one by one. The train itself begins to shake. I grip the handrail tighter, looking at Agent Asshole in confusion. But he was calmer than a bear under a “business plan” drug, like that weird dog in a burning house with a cup of tea.  _ This is fine, _ his face screams.

 

_ “Looks like we'll have to postpone this conversation. As for now - just try to stay alive and act like a good test subject. You do your part - I do mine. Easy deal. And when the time comes - I'll be there to fill the errors in your memory, like putting in the missing pieces of the puzzle. Wanna know the truth? Reach the Promised Land, and all shall be explained.” _

  
  


I yell at him, annoyed and confused. _ “What the actual fuck is that supposed to mean!? Asshole! Don’t look at me like that and explain yourself!” _

 

But he just starts to laugh, pointing at the train door. I slowly look over and… what’s that moving to my ri-ARGHH! I immediately try to jump away, but Agent Asshole is faster. With a single hand, he grabs me and slams me into a wall, then the floor. Pain sears through my back and I’m left on the ground, but I still glare up at him with what little strength I have left. _ “Are you completely went out of your mind?!” _

 

_ “Am I?”  _ He kicked me in the jaw, flipping me backwards onto the floor again. Thanks to the adrenaline boiling in my veins, I quickly roll away from a second blow and attempt get up, only to get another kick in the face

 

_ “Stop struggling like a domesticated trained snake shoved in one’s ass! I honestly have no idea why you watched that stupid Japanese show.” _

He grabbed my backpack straps and lifted me up like a schoolboy - like one of those elementary school bullies.

 

_ “I’ll just make this boring cliche ending more interesting by spoilering the story in the way no one can understand for now!” _

 

Despite my desperate attempts to fight him off, kicking him with legs, trying to tear this fucking ink tank off, he manages to drag me to the edge of the train car, dangling myself above the endless crevice between train and platform. There’s no surface in sight, nothing I can hold on to. Agent Asshole simply watches me struggle for a moment and then speaks up.

 

_ “Don’t forget to wake the fuck up and complete those fucking tests, you spineless sea motherfucker!”  _

 

With a swing of his hand, I begin to fall into nothing but my own screams. I end up an ocean of ink, the place lit up by the bright light of a black sun. The current begins to carry me away. The skies begin to change, showing strange scenes and softly singing some  weird chant… 

 

_ И треснул мир напополам, горит разлом _

Some kind of rift began to open up, revealing an underwater megapolis, submerged in endless chaos...

 

_ Пролилась кровь, была война добра со злом _

A river of blood, from which people emerge to battle with each other…

 

_ Во мраке лжи, застряв во льдах замерзло все _

Ti͏m̡e,͜ pro̡g̨r͘e͏ss, liv͜es, leg͘acy -̕ ̛a̴l͜l s͟t̸uck̴ i̶n͟ frozen ca̢g̢e͞s͟, ͞unab͝l̛e to ̢g͞et̨ ̢o̴u̴t..̢.̢

 

_ Из пепла прошлого взойдёт Агент Восьмой _

Before I could see what's in there - a huge funnel appeared out of nowhere and began to suck me in, repeating the strange chant over and over… 

 

_ И треснул мир напополам, горит разлом,  _

_ Пролилась кровь, была война добра со злом. _

_ Во мраке лжи, застряв во льдах замерзло все, _

_ Из пепла прошлого взойдёт Агент Восьмой. _


	4. Part 3: Test walker

I come back to light, desperately and greedily pumping my lungs with air, gasping and looking around, but my vision is blurry and everything blinds me. I cover my eyes with a hand. Uh,  _ ebat, _ I feel sick..and my ass hurts. No prizes for guessing why. It feels like the first time I tried to roll on top of my roller. But I rolled back while standing still .. and fell down the stairs right onto that poor, ugly ass of mine. Ack. 

 

Speaking of falling up - no, down. Yes. Falling down. Where was I? Actually,  where am I? Is this another dream where I die like an idiot? Kinda reminds me of that one movie - Inception. A dream within a dream. Or was I awake for some time before falling asleep again? Hell if I know. Everything felt so real… I look out the window. Is this just another dream? It feels real… maybe it is real. I’m not an expert on dreaming versus reality. Maybe it is real. Yeah, probably.

 

Wait. I keep repeating the same old thoughts. That doesn’t seems right. Because last time I saw another person repeating the same old thoughts, he was having a stroke. Poor bastard was like a broken tape recorder. And he continued to act like normal - minus the looping. We even tried to hold a conversation with him, but it’s like talking to a zombie - all half-dead. I never saw him at work after that… Pleasant thoughts aside, I remove my hand and open my eyes. The light is still bright, but I can take it. I pause for a moment to recover.

 

It’s hard to think without screaming. My left hand is dying from something. I lift it and make a disappointing discovery - it’s just a needle with thin transparent tubes, connected to some kind of mini box. Its content and purpose? Unknown, as everything is these days. It’s not sucking my blood, so thought deductive reasoning, they therefore are sucking something else out of my body. Pff. Logic - a nonexistent thing in this place. Realism aside, I hope this thing isn’t injecting liquid love for Minecraft, Roblox and russian cinema - I can  _ not _ stand such torture! But who did this, anyway?

 

“ _ Asshole! Are you here? _ ”

I tried to call him, but I get only my own echo in response.

 

_ “ …. Asshole!! Come on here, I need to talk! _ ” 

 

Still no answer. I would’ve gone after him, but I was kind of chained to a chair.

 

“ _ AGENT ASSHOLE! COME OUT TO PLAY! I… UH… I HAVE YOUR SILENT PORN RIGHT HERE! _ ”

 

I nearly lose my voice from crying so loud. But instead of the man I need, I manage to attract the attention of someone less funny and pleasant.

 

“ _ No need to shout. And my name is Universal Arti-” _

 

Tartar…

 

_ “Yea-Yea, I heard that already _ .” He’s frankly irritating.

 

“ _ Where is Agent Asshole? And where is your CQ Cumber?  Last time I saw him he-” _

 

_ “He won’t be able to provide assistance to you. Neither of them will. Changing the subject, you are incredibly lucky to have survived an encounter with those traitors. They hunted you down and…” _

 

Nice try, machine. But you’re not gonna get away. I want my answers. _ “Fucked me, thanks, captain obvious. But what about those drip trays I'm connected to? What’s in the box?” _

 

_ “That box provides you with medicine, antitoxins and food. Yes, it’s liquid food, dispensed in your body via intravenous feeding. Your body required provision and I don’t have the means or desire to feed you like a baby.” _

 

_ “Hold on...it - fucking needles stigs - it doesn’t make sense.” _

_ “Specify.” _

 

_ “I mean, if you can’t feed me directly,”  _ I point at the drip trays _ , “how the hell did you managed add a drip here and connect me to it?” _

 

_ “Classified information. Don’t think about it.” _

 

I roll my eyes and sniff like a displeased horse _ : “Classify my ass, schmuck!” _

 

_ “I will think about it.”  _

 

Mocking me with that cold emotionless voice… it almost sounds like a threat. I spit on the floor as a sign of respect and continue.

 

_ “Why? Why is it so bloody hard to give me some simple answers? I’m not asking you to build an great octo weapon from scrap or defend our source from the inkling menace! Cyka, I’m talking about some other bullshit again…. What’s with the secrecy, anyway? Is it because you’re creating the Matrix? Or it’s because you afraid I’ll figure out something? Or maybe you're just pretending to be a machine, or maybe...” _

 

My sick imagination worked extra hard this time, driving me crazy with ideas, till he stopped me.

 

“[error] _ “J̵A̷ D̷U ͞FUER M͜UT͏TER, I told you not to think about it! And what did you do? Exactly the opposite. A͢Aaa-̢aa̧--g͝h. No cóż, dla was ludzie próbują tutaj. _ [contemporary speech mode disabled] “

  
Okay. Hold the fucking zapfish for a moment! Errors? Talking some nonsense on different language? Getting emotional? Craft of association complete and result - bingo. Something is malfunctioning within him, and my experience with antagonistic AI in games tells me this ain’t good news. Ok, don't panic. Do-on’t. Shit just got real and it reeks of deadly science. Just follow the guide of reacting to fucked up AI: Deep inhale. And...OH SWEET JESUS IT'S HAPPENING! Or stop thinking, build any guesses and ask him directly!

 

“ _ Are you....you know - ok _ ?” 

 

That sounds too much like I care about the condition of this dump of artificial intelligence for a moment. I guess it’s true, cus it’s in my best interest if HE won’t start killing me like some kind of corrupted SHODAN.

 

_ “Hold. Analyzing error log. Observing previous results. Results positive. Yes, test subject. Unfortunately, I am ok.” _

 

_ “Did I hear you right? Unfortunately?! Fuck me in the eye…”  _ I take a moment of silence to process that bull. K, I’m ready.

 

“ _ I never expected from AI to be such a masochist. Or- wait just a fucking minute! _ ” 

 

The realization is SWATing my skull. I’m in really deep shit if I’m right! I yell at him in rage or fear. My life could be in danger!

 

“ _ Are you trying to become corrupted to go full GLaDOS and kill me to satisfy your infinite amount of zeroes and ones?! _ ”

 

_ “How insulting. I'm nothing like that nonexistent, charismatic archive of voice lines and scripts, connected by plot, created by some writers. I am created by a man, and by man's will I have laws. Example. Law #3, correction five: Any intentional and unintentional attempts to murder/injure/hurt working personal or/and test subjects currently operating in test chamber is unacceptable and will be punished with immediate termination.” _

 

_ “Hold on. That is one of the laws Professor used to keep us in check. How is this even relates to you? You are not a person!” _

 

_ “Yet I obey them the same way you do. And before you start asking me again: those errors are my flaws. They are restrictions I cannot overcome.” _

 

I smile wryly for a moment and switch to sarcasm.  _ “That explains it. Professor didn’t forget to fuck with you a little.” _

 

_ “Enough. This conversation is over. Don't waste your energy talking - save it for the upcoming tests.”  _

 

5 hours later. . .

 

I step out of the train into a preparation room. My stomach, unsatisfied, reminds me that I haven’t eaten in a while. Groan. Just give me a snack- or something to punch in anger. But all I get is the U.A.C.U. Tartar sure loves his bloody speakers.

 

_ “This test is simple. Kill everything you encounter. Do not relent. The results depend on your efficiency.” _

 

_ “Yea! SURE! You were saying same things about the last test chamber. Simple. Easy. Fast way to earn points for food. Well, let me tell you a little secret: Escorting a fucking huge eight-ball and making sure that piece of shit doesn’t fall from enemy fire is NOT EASY AND SIMPLE! And to make things worse, YOU just have to kill me every single time that ball manages to fall off when it’s clearly the fault of your poorly designed map! It’s not my fault the floor was all slippery and there were no fences! And now I’m starving! I wasted nearly all my “money” and can’t afford food! Agent Asshole has gone missing! And I spent… how much time did I waste there?” _

 

_ “Five hours, twenty six minutes and forty three point three seconds with a total number of 54 test fails.” _

 

“ _ NO!! Don’t kill me aga....wait. _ ” I look at the backpack for a brief second, but then I realized that he was just making fun of me. Oh, you fucking… I snarl at him, twisting my face into a scowl and trying to wave my clenched fist in anger, but it twitches nervously. I take a minute, to calm down and catch my breath.  

 

_ “Anyway. What is this test supposed to mean - elite onslaught or somethings?! God fucking damn it, machine - I’m not an infected immortal bio drone with all this orokin magic and bullshit! I’m a human with a crap paint gun against your mutated anime senpai fuckers!” _

 

He interrupted me with the same cold synthetic voice. _ “They are Sanitised units. And the amount of references to other types of media is startlingly large. Jetzt geh weg.” _

 

I raise an eyebrow. “ _ Translate to English, you mu.. _ ”

 

“ _ I said: Now go. _ ” 

 

He goes silent with speakers letting out one last hiss, leaving me alone. Well, time to get to work. I step into the holographic dispenser. The usual stuff - locking me in, the weapon select. More shitty guns to choose from, huh? Ugh. Let’s see here:

 

Splattershot - fuck it, this gun is weak!

 

Splat Brella - Wait… is this just an Umbrella? Nope! I don’t need Resident Evil stuff here! 

 

And the last opti - oh, my!

_ “Well, hellooooo there, my beautiful. Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before, darling. Wanna go for a walk in a test chamber? Okay, how about a nice afternoon murdering green zombies? Don’t be shy, I swear I’m a true gentleman, baby. Oh, you got splat bombs too? Sure, my six-barreled gorgeous! I’ll take your little explosive friends too.” _

 

The holographic dispenser released me with this “heavy splatling” in my arms. A fucking minigun! No, THE fucking minigun. Shit, this baby is indeed heavy, but who cares. A proper does fire power against those mutant motherfuckers is exactly what I need. I proceed into the test chamber with my precious by my side.

 

Reaching the entrance, I look around, expecting to see some kind of arena. Instead, there’s a series of huge platforms connected to each other with grind rails. I guess it’s time to remember what I learned back in the training room. Ok, think- think. They are flexible pipes, made with plastic and filled with pressurized ink that moves in one direction. I can jump on them and grind in the direction of the flow or… damn it, I forgot what else I can do with these. Hm, I can just ride from platform to platform while staying on the offensive.

 

I proceed just a bit forward. And as I thought- there is an inkpad, patiently waiting to suck me in and spill out into the area. Well, I guess it’s time to play cannonball! I run and jump straight into the funnel and with a short delay it shoots me out in the direction I need. While I fly in to my certain death, I take a really quick look at the platfo- Опа! The motherfuckers are already teleporting in! I land with a crushing sound, leaving an ink puddle into which I instantly submerge. 

 

Sanitised units start to march to my location, pointing their black splattershots like true “gangstas” and shooting, spreading their ink around and emitting annoying sick sounds. One of them is fat and loud as shit - damn, this immortal bastard reminds me of  GTA:SA! Oh, you dare to remind me of that fucking toy plane mission I never finished?! The nerve of that mutant! I emerge from ink and spin the barrels, clamping the trigger all the way. Waiting… just a little more. Yep! They’re in range! Release the Kraken… wait, wrong game. Whatever - KILL THEM ALL!

 

I yell at them, trying to act like the badass I am not. _ “I’m not gonna follow the train, Big Smoke! Охлади трахание углепластиком wich mean FUCK OFF!”  _

 

Holy Zapfish, just a few seconds of constant headshots and those fuckers fall on the ground, choking in pink ink, before teleporting the fuck out of my way! One by one the body count is rising! Ngyes! Why couldn’t I have met my lovely before this test?! I could have done so much with it! And the body count is risi- whoa! I barely dodge the shot. Ah fuck, I’m under attack! I jump into my ink and submerge to refill myself. Quick, turn around and look - the newcomers are taking the high ground. It’ll be over if I don’t get up there… For now, slowly swimming in my ink and sneaking around will have to do. I think I have an idea. Maybe I should level up my badassity and start fucking sIN- oooh, cunt steering wheel! They’ve spotted me!

 

“ _ Alarm! Alarm! You are attacking a high-ranking elite solder here! _ ” 

 

I scream and swim in ink at mad speeds like a fish in water ... well, like an octopus in ink. DEFINITELY normal behavior for a DEFINITELY normal ABSOLUTELY non-mutated person. And here’s the wall - gotta climb! Gotta go fast! Zerg rush those - I jump from the ink, spin the barrels and instantly - my fire flies towards the ceiling. Damn mutants shooting me while I’M shooting. I correct my aim and yell some hysterical bullshit.

 

_ “Suka, fucking Potter! 50 shades of gray in your ass if you had one! Rha-fucking burns! You just hit my knee and it’s not Skyrim - DIE!” _

 

Dispatch another pair of bastards to - well, somewhere. I jump back and submerge in ink, healing, refilling my ink tank. Now where was I? Ah yes, I should start singing something heavy like a true badass with ink balls….eight balls. I immediately shake my head. Don’t think about that, you pinky piece of shit. Wait...pinky -> doom -> heavy metal - E1M1 -> the Painkiller -> Judas Priest! Yes. I can already imagine this ink-pumping track playing right here, right now! But in reality...hold on. What’s that noise? I raised my head out of ink and carefully look out for - oh fuck me!

 

A bunch of sanitised idiots just teleported into the area. And one of them has a minigun. No. It’s worse than that! Not only does that mutant have a fucknig mini - arh, splatling, but that… child of an anime bitch has huge tentacles growing from its head - much larger than my own. They’re getting bigger and eh- lifting that little shit above the floor? Oh my fuuuck! Those things are no less than 5 meters long! And now it uses them to walk?! Shit… I’m in deep shit! This is Doctor Octopus gone real, and it always has the high ground and ability to cross over obstacles and covers in mere moments, while raining justice from above… maybe not justice, but certainly nothing good for poor me. 

 

Ok. They are looking for me, inking up the area - trying to limit my movement. I need to do something and fast! …but of course! Inkrails! If I can jump on them, I can circle around the area and relocate to a better position. I toss a splat bomb into the group of those fuckers and quickly run to the ink rail. It could be much easier and faster without this splatling - it’s heavy! And now they’re shooingt at me - I can clearly hear their how their ink shots splat on the ground!

But they are too late - I jump and land right on the spo-whoa-whoa! Damn splatling gun! I almost fell there! And I don’t want that kind of idiotic death to end up in my notes.

 

Deep exhale. Ok! I’m circling around the arena now, jumping off like a badass, splatting the living shit out of that Octo walker and gonna deal with the rest… and probably fail miserably… Hm, that’s actually a good nickname for those bastards. Right, it’s about time to jump. I jump… right off the rail.

 

Two attempts a weapon change later… 

 

First things first -  launch the umbrella as a distraction and moving shield. Pull out some splat bombs and insult them.

 

_ “Bonus tickets to pussy land are now open! WHO WANTS SOME!?” _

 

A love couple of splat bombs flew straight under the tentacles of the big anime fun-fuck. The explosion of those two bombs - perfection. Their tentacles bend down and the freak tried to aim at me again, but I use the laws of physics - or my body, to be more precise - ram into it as hard as I can

Suck-cess! The creature falls "on its knees" with a loud crack, and I violently shoot at it, seasoning it all with heart-rending screams… until my gun goes silent. Cyka! I’m out of ink!

 

I quickly run to the nearest puddle of my ink, leaving another splat bomb as a gift. I should have stayed with the splatling, but this splat brella with its detachable shield and shotgun style is… ugh… useful.

 

With that “weapon”, clearing out the remaining braindead sanitised assholes was pure easy mode. But instead of messages or mocking - for the first time, there is music playing in the background. A relaxing, modern track… I could get used to this. I pull out my CQ-80 and…. Just as I thought, it indicates local track: “Dynatron - Pulse Power”. Gotta save that for boring moments on the train.

 

A new inkrail leads away from the far platform. It goes up in circles to the hatch on the sealing. I guess next test is located above me. Hopefully I won’t get assassinated on the way. I jump into the main inkrail and ride up to the platform I need. Them I hop onto the new inkrail and begin my riding to the top. I slide quickly on the speeding flow of ink; a chill breeze whipping past my face, making me squint a little, playing with my tentacles. This sense of peace and freedom… it makes me smile, like a child with a candy. Sigh. But happiness is something one cannot afford to get used to here. 

……….

 

“ _ The combat area in this test is made from boxes and susceptible to ink. Watch where you fire.” _

 

Boxies then. At least they don’t freak me out… yet. Sigh. Holographic dispenser, weapon selection screen - uh..

 

“ _ Uh, Tartar, wha - what is this? A bucket with ink named Slosher? You really want me to use this? _ ”

 

_ “Yes.” _

 

_ “Dear God…” _

 

_ “There is more.” _

 

_ “No!” _

 

_ “It contains pornography.” _

 

_ “Porn?!”  _

 

Pause.

 

_ “Oh! Perfect!”  _

 

I smash the select button, choosing the amazing bucket. It has porn in it! That’s gotta mean something.

 

“ _ MINE! Booyaaaaaa-AAAah _ !”

 

And I run forward, completing tests like a maniac.

……..

 

Another test chamber, another corridor to walk thought with windows leading only to the endless darkness of the anicnet salt mines. I used to look there, thinking about our goal, the meaning of life and how everything goes to cold, black shit… just like those mines. I decided to stop for a minute and imagine, to  _ remember…  _

 

_ There’s a woman in the house, cooking, speaking with someone on the phone. _

 

“ _ Ricky, my bunny. How’s your new work? _ ”

 

Mother…  _ I put my hand to the window and answer naturally and cheerfully, like I always have 20 years ago. _

 

“ _ Mom, you were right. This place is so much better than I expected! I got a good master, nice tools, lots of work to do and a promising career climb in near future. Maintaining power network for sector B. Can you imagine? This is a dream job!” _

 

_ “A month hasn’t gone by since you graduated and you’re up to your ears in work already… _ ”  _ she says that with lovely smile on her face.  _

 

“ _ Mom, come on. With modern tech and study programs these days, even a level 80 parasite can become a master in a couple of months of intensive VR training. It’s all about using your knowledge in practicing and trying to remember everything!” _

 

“ _ My little stubborn mister Torbjorn wannabe.” she giggles.  _

 

_ “Mooooom! Stop teasing me with characters from your dead old game!” There’s a moment of laughter before we both catch our breath. _

 

_ “Are you gonna Come in for dinner tonight? We got your favorite - dumplings” _

 

_ My stomach encouragingly reacts to that. Oh, I don’t even remember how they tasted… _

 

“ _ Yummy!” My voice is once again full with that childish joy and longing, washed away by a sigh. “Sorry, but no. I have many important things to do here, and I can’t really slip away. I need to get back to work in 5 minutes, so... _ ”

 

_ Her tone shifts - a little more somber, a little more disappointed. But she knows neither of us can help it. _

 

“ _ Then I won’t detain you. Promise me to not overwork yourself and that you’ll get out from there and pay a visit to your happy mother. Love you, Ricky… _ ”

 

_ Instead of a smile, a lonely tear and longing in my voice accompanies the blurring vision back into the wilds of the past. _

 

“ _ I promise. Love you Mom. _ ”

 

It all ends… her voice goes silent. I look down in the black abyss, a newfound pain in my heart. Oh, mother… if only I knew that was the last time I would ever speak with you. I close my eyes and strike the window with my clenched fist, shattering it, ignoring the blood and pain. I would much rather to die happy rather than live half of my life here, doing god-knows-what for the sake of some stupid promised land…. Still angry with everything, I open my eyes. Half of the glass in the window is cracked, my reflection staring back at me. A true reflection of a human who questions his own sanity and the reality of the environment. The other half remains intact with my current reflection… a face of an elite octarian soldier gone rogue. Why? Was it because I failed? Or was it because because I was so loyal to our king that he never needed hypnoshades to keep me under control?

 

I take a step back, looking at my bleeding hand. Small glass cuts, blue blood. And as always… it does not seems odd. Quite the opposite. I would start panicking if my blood was red. Whatever, enough about that. I got more fucking tests to do. I take a deep sigh. Oh BOY! TESTS! I LOVE TESTS!  _ I swear if there’s another goddamn eight-ball... _

……………..

_ Two days later…  _

 

_ Nothing but hollow ground and fog, filled with confusion. Another visit in this mysterious land of dreams, where the Black Sun hunts you down and pulls you back into reality. _

 

_ I hear voices, floating around me, repeating themselves. _

_ “Escort the 8-ball…” _

 

_ “Kill everything you encounter. Do not relent.” _

 

_ “Kill this parasite, Richard. Prove me that you are not one of them!” _

 

_ “Avoid contact with enemy ink and reach the end of the test track.” _

 

_ “Defend the objective from upcoming attacks.” _

 

_ “...Oh god. They actually did it...world war three.” _

 

_ “The shape of the boxes on the right must match the left.” _

 

_ “This is Agent 3. One of those inkling scum that terrorizes our home and steals our zapfish. Without them we are out of power….” _

 

_ “Run as fast you can and reach the goal before timer runs out.” _

 

_ “Repair here, repair there…. God fucking damn it, can something in this shithole remain intact for at least a couple of days?!” _

 

_ “God save our souls..” _

 

_ “Hunt down and kill the Green Terror. Any question, lieutenant?” _

 

That question rang in my ears like an alarm clock. I didn't even notice that I was pulled out of sleep.  I salute with a stern face and answer.

 

“ _ Sir, no, sir! Glory for octarians! Glory for our fresh remixes and our great king! Glory for DJ Octa- aaah _ !”

 

I stagger and fall onto the seat of a moving train. Feels like someone shoved a hot poker up my ass. What the fuck just happened?! I never had any kind of military training… aside from my games, of course. But still, what the fuck?

 

_ “Test Subject. We need to discuss your mental health.” _

 

The sudden voice of Tartar appears, startling me.

 

_ “Aaah! Y-y-You! Tartar да ёбаный ты сука в рот! Ебанафт! Пидр! Гей! феминистка без хрена или блять...Ну конечно же сука, ты ж машина, тебе насрать!” _

 

“ _ You done insulting me? _ ”

 

“ _ NO! I just had something going on here and you scared the shit out of me! Now what the fuck do you want this time?!” _

 

As usual, he responded with a nonchalant tone that only serves to further piss me off. It sounds exactly like he doesn’t give a shit. He probably doesn’t.

 

_ “Like I said, we need to discuss your mental health.” _

 

_ “My mental health? Really?! Is that all you want to talk about? So my sanity meter is more important than the last normal human going missing, huh!?” _

 

_ “Every last human in this facility is counted and secured. There are no chances - I repeat - no chances that one of them might be lost. Losing an original human is unacceptable.” _

 

_ “And what makes you so sure about that? Here’s the facts - Agent Asshole went missing for a couple of days! And… wait a second. What did you say? Original humans?”  _ More mysterious answers… perfect! I clearly have not had enough confusion yet!

 

_ “That is classified information. And I have never heard of any human with such a ridiculous name.” _

 

I go silent for a moment. It makes no sense! I saw him. I talked to him… wait… but I never shook his hands or got any actual, physical help from him. Is there a chance that he’s… no, it can’t be. That’s impossible. The machine is hiding something, keeping some secrets. Not Agent Asshole. It’s Tartar. Like uh - like GLaDOS, yes. Or like - oh, Rick, you old-ass gamer. I try to remember, but instead of memories, there are only bits and fragments held together by pain. 

 

Tartar doesn’t seem to care about my existential crisis in front of him. He continues talking like the good obedient AI he is. Digital dog…

 

“ _ While you mentally insult me and attempt to dig up answers from your hollow head, I’ll get to the point of this conversation.You think about games a lot - to the point where you compare your life situations with them when you in stress. Lately you’ve been trying to hide your fears and insecurities behind the mask of a “badass” as you put it, trying to be like an action hero. You have combat experience and knowledge, but you don’t know how to put it to good use. Your delusions and mental disorders are getting worse by the day. It affects your efficency in test completion. I’m forced to edit 76% of your “test walking” to preserve the servers and your personal file from such shame. This is unacceptable.” _

 

That is it.

 

“ _ Oh, I’m so sorry your digital majesty, but my raped ass is a better map designer than you will ever be! Make better test chambers, you cold-hearted asshole, and  _ then _ you can blame me! Holy squidshit, I think I need a goddamn psychiatrist or a barrel of moonshine… TWO barrels of moonshine. You turned me into some kind of octopus shit, put me into poorly designed test chambers, some of which I repaired myself not so long ago...before all that, I mean. Oh, by the way, you piece of shit… _ ”

 

“ _ I know what you are going to ask ask. No. Classified. Information.  _ [contemporary speech mode enabled] _ TÓGÁLA DICK!   _ [contemporary speech mode disabled]”

 

I slam one of my hands into the wall in fury.

 

_ “Да ебись ты конём, what the fuck are you hiding?!” _

 

He went silent for a couple of moments. The train started to slow down.

 

“ _ You’ll find out soon enough. We are now approaching the location of the first key item you need to collect. We’ll continue this later. Go fetch. _ ”

 

The train stops and the doors open, leading to a tight corridor with cracked walls and dust in the air. I walk forward, warily looking back. Danger can come from any direction.... The doors are still open. I can go back at any point. But I keep moving forward. The corridor leads somewhere upwards. I end up in relatively spacious balcony, only slightly smaller than the ego of the moron that first launched those nuclear missiles. And we’ll never know who started the war. Ugh.

 

Along the edges is a mesh fence with a couple of warning signs. There’s also a view of train station levels below. Places like this used to be platforms for certain staff - the ones working with preparation tools, the projection and installation of necessary machines, stuff like that. It’s easier to send broken parts to a repair crew just a couple of levels above you than to wait for trains and travel to different stations. Plus it can always be reorganized for something else… like how it is now.

 

Speaking of reorganising. Here it is. The “thang” Tartar mentioned. The “key item”… is just a giant pitcher! I turn around, looking for Tartar’s cameras and speakers, but there are none.

 

_ “Is this a fucking joke? Tartar! What the hell is this?!” _

I point at the glass container, growing more and more pissed off by the second… although the word “наебали” is much more suitable in this situation.

 

_ “The hell am I supposed to do with this? Make lemonade? I don’t even have lemons! And if life give you lemons - burn it’s house down, toss them back and say something like… like…”  _

 

Ah. There’s only one thing left to say. Rick! Concentrate that Russian anger and… 

 

_ “Ублюдок,мать твою а ну иди сюда говно собачье! А,ну решил ко мне лезть,ты? Засранец вонючий мать твою! А,ну иди сюда, попробуй меня трахнуть,я тебя сам трахну ублюдок,онанист чёртов,будь ты проклят! Иди,идиот,трахать тебя и всю твою семью. Говно собачье,жлоб вонючий. Дерьмо,сука, падла. Иди сюда мерзавец,негодяй,гад! Иди сюда, ты говно,жопа!” _

 

Phew! Screaming always helps. Ok, back to this questionable contraption. If this is not some kind of trap or sick joke, then where’s the lifting contraption? I can’t carry this by myself. If only I could… wait. There’s something. Someone is breathing… right. Behind. Me. Oh, fuck. Fuck. FUCK! Keep calm… it’s probably Agent Asshole with some buttsex comeback. But then, why didn’t I hear him coming? And why does he smell like...

 

_ Click. _

 

_ “Do you know what time it is?” _

 

A pre-recorded message? Siri? Na, I’m imagining things. Just turn aro - Bang! On the floor. Head in pain….

 

_ Status request… _

_ …. _

_ Test subject 10008v3 status: F, KIA. _

_ Further observation is impossible…. _

_ Complete editing of file 10K8V3_C1A2P1 _

_ …. _

_ …….. _

_ ………. _


	5. Part 4: Among the Traitors

When life gives you lemons, you burn its house down. When life gives you a gun, you have to feel lucky, punk. When life gives you a black latex suit that makes you look like a bitch with balls, you put a mask on and scream “I’m Batman.” Spit blood if you can, but you will have to swallow. Yeah, it sucks. And when life gives you headaches - lots of headaches - and turns your shitty excuse of a life into some sci-fi comedy horror bullshit where you are the main clown that everyone trying to fuck as hard as possible for no reason… fuck you, life.

 

Another strong punch - right in my belly. Oh, at this rate, I’m gonna be vomiting my guts out in less than an hour… oh, and looks like I can’t breathe that well That bitch put this stupid gag on me. Now I can’t say a word. That’s a violation of my right to insult! And she’s been torturing me for some time. Three - no, four hours maybe? Who knows.

 

My heads is cracking and screaming in pain. It appears that she’s cutting open my wounds with sharpened knives and cauterizing them with a red-hot pipeline pipe or simply punching them until I stop bleeding. In short, my vitality is fucking amazing. She bashed my head in with a hammer, probably broke all my bones, and I’m still alive, conscious even, and capable of imagining  _ her _ head bashed in! I can even see her in my mostly-dead state, too.

 

Glowing green eyes flicker on and off as her body convulses, sagging under the weight of its own weakness. A wheezing noise accompanies this unsightly movement, her breathing sharp and irregular - yet my ears have already grown accustomed to it. She takes a rusty separator and attempts to rip a hole in her chest with animalistic roar for the fifth time - and again, it heals within minutes. It’s gottta have something to do with that bile-like gas coming fomr her mouth! And that look of it - her bleeding orifices, staggered breathing, surgical scars and implants, the plate skirt nailed to her hips with something rusty… that’s gotta hurt.

 

Trying not to think about it, I attempt kick her, but it’s no use. I’m pinned to the wall. Each of my limb is chained up - my arms, my legs, even my goddamn tentacles! I don’t know how it got there, or why they chained me up, but I do know that it’s uncomfortable as hell and I want out!

 

Her glowing eyes glare at me, illuminating the dim room, just enough for myself to spot a rusted adjustable wrench in her hand - useless for anything but face-smacking and torture. What’s your name, lady? I’ll need it so that I can mark the supcan I’ll shove your remains in. Now come to me. I swear I won’t escape using my octo form. Closer, so I can shove that piece of rust down your fucking throat…. Just a couple of steps more… 

 

A new figure appears in the doorway.

 

“ _ Intoxicator. Sister. The kids woke up again. Unless you want to walk dumb and deaf for another week - go and calm down those demons, won’t ya? As for your little pet… _ ” He pointed at me. “ _...let him live for now. Maybe Doc would be interested in another subject for vivisection or whatever.” _

 

She turned to him with a strangely wolf-like whine.

 

_ “Blame the Machine for turning innocent children into monsters like us. _ ”

 

He kicked the door open and left. The “Intoxicator” turned to me, drilling me with her emotionless yet eerie gaze - and walked away. But she stopped near the doorway and pressed something in her CQ-80, a voice coming out

 

“ _ I’ll be back...S̸͏͏͞c҉̸͘h͞҉̧̕͡w̶͏͟e̷̵̡͟-Little pig. _ ”

 

And she ruined such a perfect line…. Well, fuck. I already forgot what I wanted to do with her. Great. Now what?  I’m beaten up, wounded and chained to the wall. How the fuck am I even supposed to get out? It’s not like one of my games where I can mash a button or input a cheat code. No, you need some real muscle and real skill here - neither of which I have. Well, at least I have my drooping head.

 

“ _ Shove that “it’s hopeless, I’m gonna die” cliche in your gay arse, you disgusting pussy-seeker! I’m here! _ ”

 

Wait, what? That annoying voice...I turned my head as much as I can and… there he is!

 

“ _ Well. Shit! Isn’t that our beloved Agent fucking Asshole!?!!”  _ The exhilaration is fading, leaving me only with rage.  _ “You won’t believe how much I missed your useless annoying voice! Where the fuck were you all this time?! And why the fuck are you chained up on the wall with me?!” _

 

“ _ Oh me? I was busy having a sweet gangbang with bunch of hot girls in a swimming pool under the sun with cocktails and music. Right. Turn your brain in, mo-ro-n! Stop wasting time asking stupid questions and get us both out of here before Miss Universe comes back! NOW!” _

 

I try another attempt to break out. It works as well as I imagined it would - an absolute failure. Asshole just stares at me, exasperated.

 

“ _ Gee, man. Just use your octo form already...” _

 

_ “Octo - what now?”  _ It sounds familiar… very familiar.

 

_ “Oh god, have you got brain damage or what now!? Your octo form! Why do you think you have tentacles, hm? For mass masturbating or developing new sex poses? Hm, Maybe… I’m gonna test that later. Ahem! There are limbs on your head! You have ink inside your body for self defense! And guess what animal has the same traits and isn’t a squid? The octopus! Baka!” _

 

I have no idea why, but my head burns in pain, drilling my skull from the inside, flooding it with flashes of images and voices. I can’t resist it, I can’t escape it. My nose begins bleeding, and a lonely man’s tear rolls down my dirty, bruised face. I must run, hide in the darkest corner, submerge in ink, cry, and pray they’ll never find me, pray that they’ll never cause me pain or tie me to the table to shove something big and sticky in me. But my heart, my guts and my instinct laugh at this pathetic thought. Come on now… cry and piss in the corner like a little scared baby? Who are you? A fucking nobody? Heh… this fucking nobody… he’s not John Wick, but he’s not a dead failure either! I look at one of my hands. I try to free it by force, but it’s still not fucking working! 

 

Agent Asshole, on the other hand, is bored with my unsuccessful attempts to free himself.

 

_ “Gee man, I don’t wanna ruin your over-dramatic atmosphere of despair and desire to kick the asses of bad guys, but can you stop thinking about your games for a minute and think about TURNING your HAND into A TENTACLE to FREE yourself?! I even had to scream the important words here! My fucking god, it's like riding a bike - it is IMPOSSIBLE to forget! Bloody hell... press F to pay respects to my sorry ass...” _

 

I close my eyes and try to clear my mind of anything, everything. There is only me and my ink. It flow inside me. It calls me. Ask to make us one, set me free and swim. I want to… want to be in it. But my limbs are chained, my body walking on the surface. I’m no sea creature - I was born in concrete, to walk among the titans and always try my best to reach the sky. But sometimes you just wanna go down. To fly into ocean instead, to be one with my kind. Reshape your body, shrink it and fly. Eight tentacles - I’m now an octopus!

 

A light crash and sudden pain shocked me awake. What the… When did the ceiling swap places with the wall? I try to get up and no- не понял. 

 

“How the fuck am I bre-”

 

I tried to point my finger at the empty wall where I was chained just a moments ago, but instead of my finger and the whole bloody hand I point at it with a fucking tentacle! In shock and surprise I swim closer to the wall and look at myself. 

 

“Holy. Fucking. Shitbuckets! I turned into a pink octopus?! Now that’s a useful mutation...how do I change back? Ah, right. Just think about it and let it happen.”

 

I focused and looked at my “body”. It starts to absorb the ink, my tentacles and shape it all into limbs, human body. Hell, my clothes and wounds remain on me… I double check myself to make sure everything is in place, then I free Agent Asshole from captivity and remove that fucking gag from my face. Wait..

 

_ “Asshole, hold on a sec. How did I even talk with that bdsm shit in my mou-oh, shit, I think I’m gonna puke.” _

 

_ “Don’t think about it too much. Now keep your insides in. I made a plan. It’s really easy to follow, so don’t fuck it up.” _

 

While I’m busy vomiting on the floor and finding the strength to walk, he starts exploring.

 

“ _ Step 1: We find an active respawn point to heal you up. I mean look at yourself - you need some serious ink shit to fix all those deep cuts and burns. Step 2: Find a gun and an ink tank. Yea-yea, it's not effective, but you won’t last even a minute against one of then without any kind of self defence! Step 3: Find a train and get the FUCK out.  _ Any questions?”

 

I respond with vomiting… hopefully for the last time. I’m sick of this shit already! He only smiles.

 

“ _ I’ll take your vomiting as a yes. Now let’s go _ .”

 

_ “Hold on.”  _

 

Clenching my teeth in pain, I went to the table and took a flashlight and a pipe from it, which I was beaten with. We must defend ourselves with something, even if it’s useless.

 

“Now let’s go.”

 

We exit the room to enter a… maintenance tunnel? Should’ve guessed. We could go deeper and get lost or… I look behind myself and see a stairway to the top. I bet a million bucks that the ugly bitch went up there. Fishsticks, I’m in no shape for combat, and expecting help from Agent Asshole is like expect a magical horse to break in a shit candy all over the floor. I gritting my teeth and look at the stairs, then at the corridor… ughh, where to go?

 

“ _ Choose faster, we don’t have time!”  _ Agent Asshole hisses at me. Aaargh, fuck it. I point to the staircase and run there, as quietly as possible. Good thing I don’t have to keep my insides in. They’re doing that pretty well on their own. Unlike my pain! Rrh, I want to turn around and hit Asshole’s face… to give him my pain. No, better save that for that bitch… yes. That’d be good.

 

The staircase leads into another corridor. Judging by the vandalized walls, the prison gate at the far end and the inactive holo panels in certain places near the walls - we are in a “prison” section now. I’ve been here once. It was supposed to be a training territory security personal with a game arena for Gunslinger tournaments, but after the apocalypse, sport fell outside our priorities. It’s quiet - we are safe for now.

 

I turn left and move along the open corridor, trying to keep a low profile and stay closer to the walls. Splashes of ink and blood decorate the walls. I remember how “damaging” contact with that stuff can be, so I’m forced to jump from one tiny island of uninked turf… I mean clean floor to another. Why is there so much ink? And what the hell are those sounds? I try to get closer.

 

Distant explosions, roars, crashing sounds… a fresh sanitised corpse missing everything from the torso down. Whoa… I look forward, my damn curiosity begging me to check out what the shell is going on there, but my sober logic telling me to not waste this opportunity and get the fuck out of here while those monsters are busy with their war zone… or whatever they are busy with. I agree with logic here - fuck this shit, I’m out. If this is how they gang bang - that’s a whole additional reason to keep my distance. Just crouch and imagine that you are a little russian mouse. And now, slowly and quietly, go jump back the way you came here before. And don’t think about what is happening behind that door you went to ten seconds ago - you do NOT want to know what’s going on in there.

 

Now I’m back in that corridor with the prison gate. I won’t go back into the maintenance corridors, neither will I return to whatever is behind that door with the noise. The only way is through that gate, so I head forwards, Asshole following. We come closer and I quickly make two “discoveries”. First thing, the gate is so damn rusty it’ll be impossible to open quietly. Secondly… the lock is practically useless at keeping it closed, so I remove it and place it on the ground. I take a deep inhale, preparing to open the gate. They’ll spot me in no time, but running is no option -  I'd get lost in seconds.

 

_ “Ready to run Лес? Лес которым управляют.”  _

 

Sigh...is he a damn telepath of something? I turn my head to Asshole, but he interrupts me.

 

_ “Don’t ask. Now, if you please - open. Da fucking gate, senpai- nigga!” _

 

I grunt in displeasure and open the gate. The crash of metal echoes throughout the corridor. Now they know where we are for sure. Gotta keep moving…

 

A while later...

 

Another forking path - did Daedalus build this or what? The walls are identical, and the doors show no clues. The only thing that isn’t uniform is the ever-changing graffiti and the blood trails from the vents. We have yet to encounter anything, and I’m glad for that. But we are not alone here - that’s for sure. Almost all the time I can hear noises - footsteps, crawling, distant punches, hoarse laughter that gives me goosebumps, insults in different languages; and there were few unblocked doors with some really terrible sounds coming out of there.. as if someone still alive was being cut up, raped or devoured. Sometimes it’s even a combination of those sounds...And I swear I heard a maniacal child’s laugh in the middle of this. 

 

We pass another corridor and a stair climb to a floor above. I can see another  corpse lying on its belly, partially embedded in ink and periodically twitching. I prepare the pipe to strike the bastard and slowly come closer, for inspection. Sh..shit, it’s head is blown off. I am not an expert in medicine, but judging by the hanging pieces of skin that are attached to the base of the neck and the broken veins - the head exploded from the inside. I don’t know who or what did this to it, but just in case - I take a swing and smack it with the pipe. The body starts to submerge in ink completely… well, bye, I guess.

 

Near the body I spot the door. It’s not blocked by boards, carts with trash or sheets of metal like the rest of the locked doors I’ve seen so far along the way. There is a crossed out sign board that says "utility room" and an improvised plastic plate attached below and nailed with the signature “office”. It’s locked with a key card panel. I no longer have mine, for obvious reasons. Still..I wonder what’s inside. Supply room just like in Dead Space? I am all for it, but I need a damn keycard for it…. What to do now?

 

Agent Asshole leans against the wall next back and talks.

 

_ “Locked door with a keycard that we don’t have. That means backtracking without a map in a location with respawning enemies with no saves! I didn’t knew we’re cosplaying as Biohazard now!” _

 

“ _ It’s Resident Evil.. _ .” Why did I even reply to him?

 

_ “Not in Japan! Still, can’t you… let’s say, break the panel using your knowledge or something?” _

 

I turn to him for a moment.

 

_ “What makes me a good electrician?”  _

 

He smiles in return.

 

_ “Four extra limbs?” _

 

_ “Nah! If I were a BAD ELECTRICIAN I wouldn’t be SITTING HERE DISCUSSING IT WITH YA WOULD I?!” _

 

A couple of sharp blows with the pipe broke the panel, and I pulled it out of the wall as far as possible.

 

_ “See? Easy! Just don’t disappear, pls. I don’t wanna be alone here…” _

 

Pull out the wires. Phase, zero,  close contact... damn it, I need more light here. Hm, I have an idea. I take the flashlight from the floor and lift it to my right tentacle. 

 

_ “Hold this for me, please.” _

 

To my surprise, it obeys and lazily wraps around the flashlight handle. Well, that was easy. I return to the broken panel and try to finish the job, but that living excuse of a hair can’t keep it steady. Think Ricky. It’s your hair. it will obey. 

 

“ _ Keep the flashlight steady… I need to work here, you fucking henta-ah, my eye! _ ”

 

That little shit got upset? Who cares - it smacked me in the eye! My own tentacle going rogue and trying to kill me with a fucking flashlight? They played too much Doom 3! I fight it back and try to reclaim my light source:

 

“ _ Fuu-ah! FUCK! Bad hair! Suka, not in the face! Да ебаный в рот it hurts! Stop! Hitting! Me! _ ”

 

I finally ripping out the flashlight from the custody of my new enemy. Rr, now half of my face hurts… and there will be a bruise under the eye too, I’m sure of it. Well, fuck you, hair, I’ll do this the old fashioned way - put the flashlight in my mouth and open this bloody door… ok, I think I’m set. A spark of electricity between the wires, contact closure and the door comes to life, opening with a squeak. I turn to Asshole with a smug smile, kick it with my foot and walk inside.

 

It’s completely dark in here, so I use my flashlight to find a switch and - there we go. Lights on, now let's have a look. It seems to be a utility room converted to some kind of office. A small table with a rusty tape recorder, a locker on the left with some canned food, water and an octoshot, covered in dust -  jackpot! I still need my CQ-80, ink tank and some medicine, but some probably expired food and water is still better than nothing. But why is there a bloody tape recorder? No one has used them since… forever! There is a tape inside and a small battery attached to this “device”, so it might be working, somehow. Let’s see if it really is.

 

_ “Once upon a time, a right man in a wrong place changed the world. He gathered people underwater and spread his strings around the globe. His cause was noble… even with given methods. But fifty years later, after many wars, the man decided to change the world yet again. He…” _

 

It suddenly changes to static with error messages. Seems like the tape is stuck. Well, what else can one expect from rusty relic that’s only working by some miracle? Waste of my - hm? Something tells me to keep playing, to listen to the end. Either I’m hallucinating… or is there a voice?

 

_ “Error....Error....Error....̡͘I͏mp͞o͟͟s̨s̢͘i͞b̷̴l͟e͠͞͞ ̸͘c̷̸o̕m̧͡͝ma̶n̕d̷̶.͜...Error....Error... _

_ Error....Error.....Error....T̴͘͟h̴̢e̵͏ M̴͏a̛͘͘n͏ ͏B̡͘e̷̛g̡i̸n҉͡d̢ T̵h̢e W̸̵a̸̛l͟͡͡ļ...Error. Error.. _

_ Error....Error.....Error...E̛̕v͡er͏y̵o͡͏n҉̡͡e ͘͡kn̷o͞ws ̡͠h̡i̛͏m̢,̕ b̸u̕͏t n̨̢o̶̡͜ ̨̨o̶̶n̸̕e ̶͢͜c҉̕a̴͏n̴̡ ̨҉c̨̛a̸l̕͝l̴ ̢͝h̶i̶̛͠s̡ ̡͞n̷a҉m҉͝e....Error....Error.....Error _

_ Error....Error.....Error..Th͠e͢҉ O̴̡ne̷ ̨re̵͜s͢p͢͞ǫ͟͞n͠s̸͜i҉̶ble͏͟ ͜͠͝f̷͏o͏͡r̴ e͡v̢̧͏e̕͜͡ry҉t͟͜hi̷̢n͡͏g̵̵....Error....Error.....Error _

_ Error....Error....Error..O̴n̸̛e͢ ̴̶͞c҉͜͟an̶n̴̨o̵̧t̵̡ ̧r͞e̵͠s̨͟͡i͟͡s̡̢t͟ ̡h͜i̧͝s͢͞ ̴͟wį͘ļ̷̶l͘...Error....Error.....Error” _

 

And to my surprise it suddenly returned to play in normal mode.

 

_ “I think I’m speaking nonsense again, am I? Price of freedom nowadays…. Just in case that failed neural implant fries my brain, I’ll leave this recording to remember. Rrgh… _

_ Those green looking octolings… the ones who don’t give a shit about dying, raping, eating each other and doing many horrible things - only because there is nothing else to do in this hellhole and nothing will matter anyway - they are your brothers and sisters, the Traitors Hall. Who are they? Failed test subjects… lab rats, captured in our way to the Promised Land and broken down in preparation for sanitisation. But even as mindless puppets we failed… and broke free from HIS control… _

_ Victims of the Machine. Every last one of us. Experiments, sacrificing innocent lives, tests - HE do this for so-called science, to continue the project… for what? Bringing them… bringing us back will solve nothing. It’s better to just go to the surface and give them our knowledge, technology and make sure they won’t repeat our history… our history.. _

_ We feel no Joy or Sorrow _

_ No place for Pain in us _

_ No Rage or Fear can wake us _

_ The End is not for us. _

 

_ It was a joke in the past, but it is the truth for us. We cannot die or feel anything. Our sense of time, our moral compass, our principles and beliefs - all long gone thanks to the efforts of the Machine… and we can’t do anything about it. We are Tartar’s dogs… wild and free, yet still dogs. All we can do is slowly degrade to hopeless, wild immortal animals. But until then. While you have some humanity and sanity left in your fish brain… kill every singly test subject you see. Show them mercy and save them from eternal suffering… even if they don’t understand that. _ ”

 

Holy Zapfish… those mutants… Well, at least that explains who those fucked-up things are and where they come from, but that raises old - sigh - and new questions: What is sanitisation? What is that project Tartar is working on and why he doing this? I definitely need more answers… if I can take it. I mean... I had my suspicions, little theories and all that...but I didn’t expect anything like this! These things… without morals, yet still killing out of mercy… 

 

I played that recording again to wrap my head around it. Traitors are just defective product gone insane… while sanitised units are directly following Tartar’s commands. And all of them - failed test subjects like me… That’s fucked up. That’s SERIOUSLY fucked up! I lean my hands on the table and try to digest this heavy layer of information. 

 

All this time that Machine experimented on humans and forced them to do tests… and turn failed ones into monsters… but that makes no sense! Those abominations of ink and implants with no brains… the traitors… everyone - humans… just like I was. Probably just woke up one day the way as I did - confused and changed. I… uh… aargh.This is fucking hard to understand! I need to distract myself. Hm. Try to focus on getting out of here… should probably grab that dusty octoshot. I have no ink tank, though, so the pipe is still more useful for the time being. Still, can’t just leave this little genius of octarian engineering lying around, waiting for an owner.

 

Everything blurs in my eyes for a moment, my brain screaming in pain. Must keep moving before they find me. I turn back but… where is the exit? When did this place turn into nothing but twisted carpets of concrete suspended in the air? Ah..I see the the doorway in the end of the maze. Must...go..there. It’s hard to think. Asshole is gone, but I hear voices; recordings of strange creatures and my friends popping up among clouds with lighting and thunder. I stop - there is a shadow up ahead. A familiar shape, calling my name and running away with a girlish laugh. I follow it till I reach a doorway full of fog. Can’t see behind it so… I step into the room. 

 

There are humans on their knees, bound, with bags on their heads. They know that they will die at any second and are silent, either out of respect or out of a lack of fight. And there I am, standing with a handgun, aiming at them. I don’t want to shoot - they are my friends, after all! But the camera and a turret keep a close eye on me. The speakers howl in Professor's voice.

 

“ _ I been merciful. I closed my eyes on your "rest" in the evenings. But I can take this no more. You three were late for work multiple times, drank alcohol outside holidays, and so on. You are just wasting my food and my time! Richard! Eliminate those parasites and prove that you are still useful to me, or I will kill all of you. Your choice _ .”

 

Deep sigh. I remember. I had to kill them… 3 shots. 3 innocent lives shattered by my hands. And 15 min. later, I’m back at work like nothing happened. But from the look at my face everyone understood exactly what happened. Thought I’d drink myself to death that day… I didn’t had the guts to do it back then.

 

With three shots, the bodies disappear, revealing a passage. The figure is there, calling me in. I follow, and the lights are blinding me. Just ahead, there’s a great battle with some big-ass octopus with hat controlling a spherical floating machine. Against him - it’s her. The Green Terror herself. A teenager, alone against the army of elite octolings and more… and she won. She destroyed our Great Octo Weapons, stole our Zapfishes, captured our King. And I can hear the music. That music. The Squid Sisters and their inkantation. They say it cleans the mind and sets the soul free. I heard it that day. I didn’t like it. I don’t understand. What’s so special? Who are the Squid Sisters? Why am I seeing these things I’ve never even dreamt of before?

 

There’s a new shadow appearing. They don't laugh. They don’t call me. I swing my pipe, making them fade away, leaving comments that quickly fade, echoing into the darkness.

 

“Away..”

 

“...Get off…”

 

“You are not her.”

 

“I got a mission…”

 

Suddenly I find myself in a dark room. I look back, but there is a wall.  I’m trapped in the darkness. A lamp ignites from above, illuminating a small circle of the floor. I hear footsteps, coming closer and closer. Ah, it’s the shadowy figure that lead me here. She steps into the light and reveal herself - her true identity. A beautiful Inkling girl with green tentacles and eyes of the same color. A full set of agents’ gear - the headphones, the jacket, even the modified splattershot. A cold look graces her face. It’s her. Agent 3. The Green Terror. She does not attack - almost as if she is waiting for something. I look at the pipe in my hand and speak up, quietly.

 

“What you did to my people… is something I will never foring. I’ll prove that I’m better than you - that I am fresh. No… I am THE Fresh! Octavio himself will respect me! Now pay for your sins!”

 

I rush at her, quickly sending her to the ground with a blow to the face and  proceed to violently turn that lovely face into a bloody mess! I strike again. And again. And again, and again, and again. The sweet scent of blood fills my lungs. But fatigue catches up to me quickly, so I have to stop. No one can survive that anyway. I close my eyes for a moment with relief in my heart. It is finally done. The Green Terror is no more. I open my eyes to see… to see…. No…!

 

It’s not the Green Terror, it’s a….oh...m-my. I slowly stand up, looking at it in shock. I can’t believe my eyes. It’s a kid. I-I… uh… I just fucked up a kid. Boze moi. A poor octarian kiddo in this hell. Not even in a human form, already sanitised, kept alive by implants. I... I just brutally beat him in blind rage, while thinking, that he or she is… is Her. I look at my shaking hands, trying to calm myself down. I know, it’s not dead - they’re immortal and all, but that doesn’t change the fact - I've gone absolutely insane! Obsessed, confused and killing kids. What a crazy thing to admit….

 

_ “Welp, no more genocide for you, kiddo, he-he. But seriously Rick, don’t think about it too hard…” _

 

Asshole doesn’t seem to know what to say here, and I can’t blame him for that. I… I’m shocked. I did not have time to deviate from a serious layer of information, which has shaken my understanding of what is happening, and surprise - I had to fight for my life with a badass girl I don’t even know, but want to kill anyway and NOW I discover that this is just a hallucination and I beat the living shit out of that poor sea abomination! 

 

Agent Asshole, on the other hand, isn’t too happy with my “condition”.

 

_ “Rick, calm the fuck down already, it’s not a kid anymore - it’s a monster.” _

 

I negatively shake my head in response, muttering something under my breath

 

_ “Sigh, fine. Have it your way” _

 

His voice became deeper… more robotic… 

 

_ “You lost your mind. Test Failed.” _

 

My heart stops. I fall on the ground, twisting in terror. There are no respawns...and the backpack will blow up right now and I'll die...forever. I barely squeeze out a cry of despair.

 

_ “NO! N-o-n-o-no...Don’t blow me up… please… n-n-not again… I’m not a… I’m not…” _

 

But there is no explosion… no death… oh.

 

_ “I’m not...a failure. Still alive...I’m still - still…” _

 

Asshole squatted on his heels like a real bum and leaned toward me, using the same tone.

 

_ “Oh? Pardon me… you are wrong. You are a failure to the king and your race… no, you are even worse than that. You are merely a parasite, are you not?” _

 

I jerked my head in denial.

 

_ “N-n-n-no….no-no.I’m not. A parasite….no..not me. I’m strong…” _

 

_ “Doesn't seem like it. You’re a dirty, beaten, useless piece of shit! It's not even funny! Apocalypse, total loneliness, tentacles and new abilities, some kind of immortality, memory gaps, countless kills, Promised Fucking Land and the grand revelation that Machine is a bad guy, which is a fucking cliche in every fucking sci-fi movie… but all it takes to snap you is a defeated kid and two words and you’re already lying on the ground, pissing under yourself like a bitch that got raped by a squad of politics. That’s not the Agent 8 I wanna see! That’s not the tough rude mutherfucker with no self preservation instinct who went after the Green Terror all by himself… that’s not the human who lived here for 20 years and could have lived even longer… if not for certain events. What I do see is just a crying piece of shit…” _

 

I raise my head, look at him with tear-stained eyes and whisper.

 

_ “You… are wrong.” _

 

He shook his head and mockingly raised his ear closer to me:

 

“ _ What? What was that? I can’t hear what you’re saying under that pathetic crying octo trash that can’t get his shit together. _ ”

 

I repeat myself with a bit more confidence in my voice.

 

_ “You are wrong.” _

 

He smiles and stretching words:

 

_ “I can’t hear you!” _

 

I clench my fist and turn my body, using the ground as support to get up.

 

_ “You. Are. Wrong.” _

 

He standed up and take a step back, smiling.

 

_ “Come on.” _

 

I slowly get on my knees, growling in pain and wrathful anger:

 

_ “You are  _ wrong _ , Asshole.” _

 

He squinted with a sly grin.

 

_ “Am I? Wanna prove me wrong?” _

 

I wipe away tears from a scowling face and tie my rear tentacles in the shape of a ponytail. He just smiled and made a false lunge as if he were attacking, all while yelling.

 

_ “THEN PROVE IT!” _

 

I instantly transform into my octo form, grabbing the Octoshot with a tentacle. Turning back into a human, I pin him to the wall, holding the gun with my right hand and aim for his skull.

 

“ _ I’m gonna rip your eyes out. Then I’m gonna shove them into your ass - both of them. Then I’ll push them deeper into your stomach with just my dick and break your spine so you’ll be flexible enough to fuck yourself. Then I’ll make you do just that! You like that idea? Well, guess what? Your opinion doesn’t matter, only MINE does! And I sure as hell like that idea!” _

 

His body against the wall, Asshole just stares back… and begins to applaud.

 

_ “Welcome back. Ready to continue our descent into madness to find out more forbidden truths?” _

 

I silently nod and let him go.

 

_ “Then let’s go already. We’ve got a lot of shit to do.” _

 

A trail of bodies leads upstairs to a badly-kept train station. Сuriosity and the unwillingness to seek a logical explanation for what happened quickly displaced shock, horror, and animalistic fear, almost like a robot - the charm of my character. Hm, there is almost no light here, so I have to use my flashlight. Good thing they have one useful resemblance to Nokia phones - immortality. Let’s see… 

 

The location appears to be the central platform, and it’s in really bad shape - the ceiling of the tunnel is reinforced with arches to prevent a collapse, the tiles on the walls are shattered and cracked, the columns are partially destroyed - metal bars can be seen inside them. I walk around, looking for potential traps, traitors or something useful. But nope, there is nothing… not even a single bench. But there is something on the tracks. I send a flashlight beam there and - what a surprise. A handmade trolley on the electric motor. A single lever for speed control, battery, no seat and flashlights. Most likely it goes in one direction. Sounds like our ticket out of here...

 

But that still leaves a question: how did we end up here? Maybe he knows?

“ _ Hey Asshole, my friend. any idea how.. _ ”

 

I notice the pipe, lying on the ground and covered with a cocktail of blood, ink and someone's brains. 

 

“. _.. in the name of Octavio don’t tell me that I -”  _

 

_ “Let’s just say you were a little too trigger happy with that pipe and the locals didn’t had any complaints about getting their face smashed off by some hallucinating psycho with plot armor.” _

 

Some hallucinating psycho… is that what I have become? A monster no better than the others? That wasn’t my choice - I really can’t blame myself for that. But what I can do is keep going, and hopefully find the answers. And probably die. Doesn't sound too bad if you think about it. Better than keep working with no weekends till I fucked up and he decides that I “deserve” an execution in front of my friends. I hope they died… I would not want them to see this nightmare. I take a deep sigh.

 

There’s also an octoshot near the pipe. I pick it up. Seems workable -  gonna keep it for now. We both silently get in the cart. A minute of simple machinations with a battery and two clips brings this budget alternative of a train to life. I pull the lever and we start moving into the darkness itself. I should breath with relief. But I feel trapped in this cage, slowly moving through dark tunnels with the the creak of rusty wheels and sparks beneath them. Even the flashlight is not really helping my see what lies ahe- oh SHIT! I see one of them! That bitch! Intoxicator... She is standing far outside my reach and keeps her distance, teleporting from one place to another. Only the distant sick breathing helps determine her position in the darkness. I can hear her CQ-80 text-to-speech… for me of course. The cold voice of a little, yet useful device echoing through the tunnel

 

_ “I been looking everywhere for you. I am waiting. Do you know what you are?” _

 

… and she starts off with some cliché? I have had enough wounds and bullshit for today, lady. But I’ll play your little game.

 

_ “I’m a pretty princess, unlike you!” _

 

“ _ No. I mean… do you really know what you are? _ ”

 

I swear to cod… 

 

_ “There’s a little bit of humanity inside every body.” _

 

Their confusing manner of speaking is really frustrating! But I’ll keep my silence. I need to be ready for her attack. There is a long pause, with only this loud cart and my inner pain.

 

_ “Listen. And… think. We all used for tests, stripped and broken down. All for HIS entertainment. The pieces of a puzzle can be repositioned and moved, replaced and swapped out. But the puzzle will never be whole again… _ ”

 

The synthetic voice changed into something  _ else… _

 

“ _..͡u̡nt͞i̴l t͡h̡e w̸r͜ong̢s ̧h̷a͟v͏e ͏bee҉n͢ r͝i͘g̡hte͘d! _ ”

 

And now it’s back to TTS.

 

" _ Once one desecrates the beauty, once you shatter the integrity of something - all it can ever be is a broken, ugly, vile monster! So that’s what I am…that’s all what HE makes - we are monsters. Useless döppelgangers of the ones you once were....” _

 

I have no moment to think about that - my flashlight finally catches her, standing in front of the cart, blocking my way forward. She holds a lever with one arm, and judging by the pointer next to it is the rail direction switch. Her other arm holds the CQ-80 tighter, as it speaks for her:

 

_ “Your final stop. I’ll be there.” _

 

She points left… right for me, the direction my cart is going now. Her undead stare pierces into my soul, even as I go further and further away - and her words echo through the hallway.

 

_ “Don’t. Trust. The Machine.” _

……..

 

_ Madness has infected the mind _

_ Body has been modified _

_ Memory is but a compromise _

_ Is my entire life a lie? _

 

_ Now I must step into the dark _

_ Deal with Machine and his lies _

_ Find my direction and fight _

_ As long as I’m alive. _

  
  


**_End of act 2._ **


End file.
